Angel of Music
by KyrieofAccender
Summary: Christine's POV, before, during, and after Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical, with bits of Gaston Leroux's novel and the 2004 movie thrown in here and there. ErikChristine. Novel length, complete!
1. L'Ange de la Musique

Chapter One

The first time I heard it, I thought I'd gone mad.

I had not been at the Opera very long then, and yet it seemed that I had already fallen into its daily routines. I found myself nearly always practicing with my fellow "petite rats," as I soon found the ballet girls were called. I did make a few friends – Meg Giry, for one, and I think her mother, the ballet mistress, was slightly less hard on me because of it. Only slightly, however, and I do not deny that I needed the scolds on several occasions – it was very quickly discovered by the other workers at the Opera that I always seem to have my "head in the clouds." But, then, that was only to be expected, wasn't it? I had come to the Opera because my father would have wanted it. I kept mostly to myself when I was not practicing or performing; they all thought I was strangely innocent and naïve for a dancer. I pretended not to hear whenever another performer called me... all of which, I suppose, gave rise to the belief that there was something odd about me.

I nearly believed it myself, that day. I was alone in my dressing room, putting my things away and getting ready to go home for the night. And, as had become my habit, I was singing softly to myself. My father had taught me all those years ago, and although

I lost much of my talent when he died, I still enjoyed it. Singing made me feel closer to him. He had always promised to send me the Angel of Music, and when I was a child, I had delighted in those stories. Now I thought them a bit silly…

Instead of a laugh, I sang louder, more confidently at this memory. Then, suddenly, a voice echoed into my dressing room:

_"Do not be afraid, Christine, mon ange…"_

My voice died away instantly, and I got to my feet to look around me. There was no one in my dressing room, no one at all… I opened the door, but no one was standing outside. Was I truly mad, then, like the others thought me?

No, that voice had been there, I was sure of it. It had been a man's voice, but so soft, so kind and gentle… I felt as though it had been the voice of an angel. Had my father spoken the truth, then?

"'When I am in heaven, child, I will send you the Angel of Music…'" I whispered. My father had told me that so many times that, as a child, I had come to believe it. After his death, I doubted it, but now… Was it true? I had to find out.

Timidly, I sang again, just a few notes. The silence that followed both reassured and frightened me. Had I imagined it? Or was I still grieving so much for my father that I had heard someone nearby – one of the Opera singers – and thought it to be his Angel? That had to be it. Even so, I gathered my things and left quickly, ignoring Meg when she called me to join her.

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For the next few days, all I could think about was the voice. I heard him repeat his words over and over again in my head: "Do not be afraid, Christine, _mon ange_." I wondered constantly how he knew my name, and why he called _me_ his angel when it was he who spoke the way he did… More than once did my perpetual daydream earn me a bit of trouble. Madame Giry was not at all pleased with me, as I seemed to suddenly have lost the ability to stay in step. My mind was elsewhere, more so than usual – that was clear to all, but the question everyone wanted to ask was, what was on my mind now?

"Christine? Christine, what's wrong?" Meg whispered as she passed me during one rehearsal. I just shook my head; even I could not put a name to this.

Then, finally, I found myself singing in my dressing room again. And it was not long before I heard him again, only this time he did not speak once and disappear. This time, he stayed, and he did not speak, he _sang_. It was the most beautiful, the most wondrous thing I have ever heard, his voice. I wanted to fall silent so I could listen only to him, but I knew that he would leave if I did. And so I sang stronger, and he did as well. He was singing with me, coaxing my voice into places it had never been before. I found that I was not thinking of my own voice at all, that the notes just issued forth on their own. I focused only on his voice, that wonderful angel's voice. My father _had_ been right! I found that my spirit soared with my voice now; I was happier than I had been in a long time, just from hearing his voice.

I finally did fall silent – I was too awestruck to continue. I looked around my dressing room, but no one was there – I took no notice. It was not a person singing to me – _with_ me! – after all. It was the Angel of Music, of that I had no doubt. And I soon realized that, though my voice had fallen silent, his had not. He spoke to me – I listened, enraptured, to every word.

"Dear child, you sing like an angel!" he said, sounding as overwhelmed as I felt.

I shook my head. _He_ was the angel, not I… but I found myself unable to tell him.

"Who… who are you?" I managed to say. I felt that I already knew, but I had to know for sure, to hear him say it.

He laughed a little, but it was not an unkind laugh. It was as musical and gentle as his voice.

"You do not know? Oh, but Christine, you do: _Je suis votre ange de la musique_."

"'I am your angel of music…'" I whispered, and I knew it to be true.

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A/N: So, what did you think? Please tell me! Have I failed blatantly at the French? Please review, and I'll post the next chapter if you like it:)


	2. Secrets and Stories

A/N: Blast, I forgot the Usual Disclaimer in the last chapter. Well, here it is now; unfortunately, I do not own Christine, Erik, Raoul, Meg, Madame Giry, et cetera. They belong to Gaston Leroux, Andrew Lloyd Webber, and The Really Useful Group (man, I love that name!) Any borrowing I have done from the libretto was due to my own failings to come up with anything better for Erik to say and was not meant as a copyright infringement. Thank you. Please enjoy!

Chapter 2

I heard him every day after that, for quite some time. It was always right after rehearsal, when the other members of the _corps de ballet_ were heading home for the evening. I never left with them – I stayed in my dressing room, waiting for my angel. I did not need to call him by singing anymore; very often, I heard his voice the moment I stepped into the room and shut the door behind me. I spent countless hours with him, or rather, with his voice – I never saw him. His voice pulled mine along with it, and I felt it strengthening, becoming what it had once been, surpassing that, even. But I did not feel like that was so important. I was no longer alone – it was almost as though I had my father back. It was his Angel of Music that had found me, and that was now teaching me. The sound of his voice was… indescribable, perfect, absolutely heavenly. I did everything he asked of me, never once questioning his instructions. If there had been cause to do so, a reason to refuse to do what he asked of me, I would not have been able to.

Meg, however, was becoming increasingly worried about me. I had managed to concentrate once again during rehearsals – my Angel had told me that I must. But I spent all my time alone now, and she did not know why I always vanished to my dressing room so quickly, and yet did not venture out for hours. I feared that she had taken to spying on me, but she did not say anything about hearing another voice in the room. Perhaps she had not followed me, after all. But my 'strange' behavior did not change, and she began to try and pry me from my routine.

One evening, she succeeded.

"Come on, Christine, you've been so _strange_ lately. I doubt the other girls will even recognize you, they haven't seen you in so long! Come, you _must_ spend some time with us this evening – it will be fun, I promise!"

And she had dragged me away from my dressing room door and off to the wings, deserted now except for a huddle of other dancers. I was unable to refuse, although I tried.

"_Mon ange, _please forgive me…" I whispered, hoping he could hear me somehow. I felt horrible for not meeting him as I was supposed to.

"What was that, Christine?" Meg asked, stopping for a moment to look at me concernedly.

"Nothing, Meg." I said quickly, smiling at her as if to say, and you think _I_ am the odd one?

Meg laughed, and we went over to sit with the other girls. Many of them were glancing around at the dark flies nervously, as though expecting something to jump out at them immediately.

"Meg… do you think _he_ will be here?" one of the younger dancers asked nervously, looking around with wide eyes.

"Of course not! He has better things to do than play tricks on us ballet girls!"

The other girls giggled in delight, and urged Meg to tell them more.

I had heard about this 'Opera Ghost,' but only rumors and snippets of conversations I caught passing by. He seemed to be the resident mischief-maker, and everyone used him as an excuse when something went wrong. For instance, if someone's pointe shoe had gone missing, it was instantly reputed to be the Ghost's doing. But Meg seemed to know quite a lot about this fellow, and I found myself listening intently.

"He lives deep beneath the Opera house, across the lake, I've heard. He always wears dress-clothes…"

"A ghost in dress-clothes? How silly!" another girl cut in, but all the others hushed her quickly and urged Meg to continue the story.

"…Dress-clothes, and a long black cloak, made of the shadows themselves! And a white mask, white as the snow, that covers half his face. Why?" Here she trailed off dramatically and shrugged. The other girls begged her to tell them, but it seemed Meg genuinely did not know. But that girl could spin a tale, I tell you!

"He keeps to the shadows, and is far more often heard than seen. In fact, the most anyone has seen of him at a time is the whip of his cloak, the flash of his mask in the candlelight… but his voice can be heard from anywhere. He likes to play tricks on the manager, you see. Lefèvre is quite the nuisance to him."

"But he's retiring!"

"Is he?" I found myself asking. The other girls stared at me, all of them with looks of 'where have _you_ been?' on their faces.

"Christine, you really have missed out on everything. There are rumors about it everywhere! They say he's retiring… because he can't take the Phantom anymore!"

At this, the other girls broke into fits of laughter. I found myself joining them – for out manager to leave because of some silly superstition! It was quite absurd.

Meg then got to her feet and began to impersonate the Phantom, swooping down on us, 'vanishing' into the shadowy areas all around us, trying to make her voice echo menacingly. Her efforts only made us laugh all the harder.

"I'm here, the Phantom of the Opera!" she cried, hovering over me and swirling a discarded costume cape around her shoulders. I could not help but smile.

"Meg!" a formidable voice snapped from across the stage. Our laughter died away instantly. It was Madame Giry, our ballet mistress.

"Y-yes, Mama?"

"Meg, what have I told you? You are not to spread tales about the Phantom!"  
"But Mama, I…"

"Enough! There are enough rumors in this place without your help, Meg Giry. Now, oughtn't the rest of you be at home?"

The ballet girls wordlessly got to their feet and trailed off to respective dressing rooms or straight off home. I, however, could not help but linger a moment. I must have been staring at Madame Giry. But she saw my puzzled look and, instead of chastising me, met my gaze and held it with a stern look of her own. It was I who first looked away.

"You too, Christine. It's quite late."

I thought suddenly of my Angel of Music, who had been waiting for me. Madame Giry seemed almost to guess my thoughts, from the way she looked at me, but she did not speak. Instead, she motioned for me to hurry along, and I did, although I was puzzled to no end. What did this austere old woman know about this Phantom of the Opera?

What did she know about me?

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It really was quite late when I finally returned to my dressing room. I was so worried that my angel would be gone, that he would leave me because I had not come to him. The thought that I would never hear his lovely voice again chilled me to the bone.

"Angel of Music…" I sang softly to call him, praying that he would hear…

And he _was_ there! He did not even seem angry – it was as though he had known where I had been, and why I had not come. He did, however, say something rather strange – he told me that I should not tell the other dancers about him, not even Meg, at least not for now.

"Let us keep this as our secret." he said, his voice so gentle and yet so commanding that I felt myself nodding without even really understanding what I was agreeing to.

I did not think long on it, though, for he then began my lesson. I forgot everything else save for the thrill of his voice, and the soaring sensation that filled me when I sang with him. This, I thought, was what Heaven must be like.

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A/N: Erik demands a review. And so do I, although I'm asking nicely: please?


	3. The Shape in the Shadows

A/N: Thank you so very, very much to **Truth Questor**, **luvmeforme2006**, **philadox krix**, and my dear friend **Cainwen the Warrior** for reviewing! Brownie points for you. As for the rest of you… evil glare… How can you have 83 hits and only 4 reviews? Well, here's the latest installment, then. Enjoy!

Chapter 3: The Shape in the Shadows

One evening, I found myself nearly breaking my promise to my Angel of Music. It seemed that Meg had, at last, followed me. And she had heard his voice. She ambushed me as I was coming out of my dressing room and on my way home. I was terribly surprised to see her.

"Oh, Christine, Christine! I never knew you could sing like that! Why didn't you tell me? It was beautiful!"

"I…" I stammered, completely unsure of what to say.

"But… that other voice… Christine, who was that? Who was in there with you? His voice… _Mon Dieu_, it was amazing!"

Meg fell silent, waiting for me to answer. But I couldn't – I'd promised not to. 'Let us keep this as our secret,' he had said. And he had showed no sign of wanting to change his mind. I merely shook my head – I could not tell Meg who it was.

Meg looked disappointed, then concerned.

"Christine, are you all right? Is that man… did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine, Meg, really." But I did not say anything else. How could I say that my Angel would never hurt me while still keeping his identity between us?

"But he hasn't…"

"No!" I said sharply, and Meg looked slightly surprised by my cry.

I smiled at my friend, sensing her distress, wishing I could tell her the truth. But I was so afraid that my Angel would leave me if I did. But Meg seemed slightly reassured by that smile.

"I'm sorry if I've frightened you, Meg. I am quite fine, really I am. But I must be getting home. I suggest you do the same – it's quite late."

Meg nodded, then looked around suddenly.

"Who knows? Perhaps we'll see the Phantom of the Opera tonight!"

We both laughed, and I could have sworn that I heard my Angel laughing too, very faint and far away.

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The gala performance of the opera we had all been practicing so hard for, _Hannibal_, was fast approaching. We had, at last, been given our costumes so we could rehearse in them. La Carlotta, the leading diva, could be heard complaining loudly about hers constantly and from every corner of the Opera house. Even in the short time I had been there, I had already come to dislike Carlotta, and I followed the other ballet girls' example and stayed as far out of her way as humanly possible, as she seemed especially fond of treating us as though we were a _real_ group of slave girls, rather than merely _playing_ a group of them in an opera.

At last, it was the final rehearsal before performances were to begin. And, unfortunately, it was not going as planned. Monsieur Lefèvre was there, with two other gentlemen, and he seemed to be showing us off from the side of the stage. My fellow dancers and I had to swerve unexpectedly to keep from crashing into them. Carlotta was showing off immensely, pressing her vibrato as much as she could and throwing occasional glances off to the manager and his two friends. That was another reason I tended to avoid the prima donna – I found her voice terribly irritating.

Suddenly, I heard another voice above the swell of the chorus and Carlotta's racket.

"We shall show them what _true_ music is, _mon ange_."

It was my Angel of Music! But how could he speak to me here? I found that I had stumbled, and as I struggled to recover the rhythm, I heard Madame Giry bark at me to concentrate, but with less than her usual conviction. Had she heard him too, then?

The song came to its crescendo, with Piangi, the tenor playing Hannibal, failing once again to get up onto the model elephant he was supposed to 'ride.' Then the rehearsal halted, much to the Maestro's annoyance.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention for a moment." Monsieur Lefèvre said, silencing the chatter that had broken out. "I have heard so many rumors involving my retirement recently that I must assume that you all know. But for those of you who don't, the rumors are true – I am retiring."

He then proceeded to introduce the two gentlemen with him – his successors, Messieurs André and Firmin. André, at least, seemed to know a bit about opera, and he was apparently a great fan of La Carlotta, for when the principal members of the cast were introduced to them, he asked Carlotta to sing a bit of the aria from Act III. I really was rather fond of that particular aria and was not looking forward to hearing Carlotta sing it, knowing the results would prove disastrous.

But she had barely gotten four bars into the song when, suddenly, a backdrop fell from the flies, nearly crushing her. Somewhere nearby, Meg screamed as it crashed to the floor, and the other ballet girls had soon joined her.

"He's here! The Phantom of the Opera!"

Firmin shouted for us to contain our hysterics, but I was already silent. I had seen the swish of a cloak in the flies above me, and I thought I had heard a faint chuckle. It was the same laugh that I had heard only days before! No! My Angel of Music and this terrifying Phantom could not _possibly_ be one and the same! I caught Madame Giry's eye suddenly, shooting her a frightened look. But she did not look at all alarmed, and although she did not see me – she seemed to be concentrating on a piece of paper in her hand – her calmness soothed me somewhat. When I turned to see what had happened to Carlotta, I found that she had stormed off in a huff, and Lefèvre had vanished.

Suddenly, Madame Giry had come forward with the piece of paper I had seen her holding before. It was for the new managers – from the Phantom himself!

"He welcomes you to his Opera house and commands you to continue to leave Box Five empty for his use and reminds you that his salary is due."

The managers were instantly outraged that they had to 'waste' twenty thousand francs a month to keep this 'ghost' from playing more tricks. Madame Giry suggested that they could afford more, as they had secured the Vicomte de Chagny as their patron. I recognized the name instantly, but I could not believe it. Not Raoul, not the boy I'd known so long ago… But I quickly turned my attention back to the matter at hand.

André had the sense to ask if there was an understudy, as it did not look as though Carlotta would be coming back. We all looked round at each other. An understudy? The thought that La Carlotta would ever need – or in fact allow – an understudy had never crossed our minds.

Meg piped up, suddenly and alarmingly.

"Christine Daaé could sing it, sir!"

"Meg, don't…" I whispered.

"Miss Daaé? But she's only a chorus girl!" Firmin said indignantly.

"Oh, but sir, she's been taking lessons from a great teacher!"

"Meg!"

But it was no use. André was already beginning to look at me with some interest.

"Oh, really? Who?"

"I… I don't know…" I stammered, suddenly aware that all eyes were on me. It was a very uncomfortable feeling.

Firmin began to rant that they would have to refund a full house when Madame Giry stepped in, calming him as she had me.

"Let her sing for you, monsieur. She has been well taught."

She nodded to me, and I tentatively moved center-stage. How had she known…? But then the music for the aria started, and I pushed all other thoughts aside. I could not let my Angel of Music down…

"_Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye_…" I sang nervously, but as the song went on, my confidence grew. It was not until I had finished that I realized how quiet everyone was.

They all seemed to be goggling at me as though I had three heads. At first I thought they were disgusted, and I quickly looked down to examine my scuffed pointe shoes.

"Miss Daaé, that was exquisite!" André cried, delighted, breaking the silence.

I looked up, startled. Me? Exquisite?

"I… thank you, monsieur."

"I think she will more than make up for La Carlotta's disappearance, no?" Madame Giry said, smiling my way.

This, more than anything else, really convinced me. Had the formidable Madame Giry just _smiled _at _me_?

The rest of the day was a whirlwind – I was hardly aware of any of it. It was though I was dreaming. Grumbling, the costumers pulled together something for me out of what Carlotta had left behind. The other principals quite graciously showed me the blocking, pointing out over and over where I should stand, when I should enter and exit.

The performance was suddenly upon us. I was extremely nervous as I waited backstage. I had learned this role in less than a day! I was bound to make mistakes, and I was terribly frightened.

"There is nothing to fear, Christine. They will all love you – you have the voice of an angel!"

I turned, but there was no one there. It had been my Angel, wishing me luck. I smiled – I would sing tonight for him.

He was right, amazingly. No one at all in the audience seemed annoyed at me because I was not La Carlotta. I sang as my Angel had taught me, simply letting the music pour out of me and fill the air. The result was thunderous applause; I could barely keep from bursting into joyful tears. I had to be dreaming!

The other ballet girls gathered around me backstage after the performance, positively showering me with complements. I thanked them over and over, beaming, but I wanted to get back to my dressing room, to be with my Angel again. I knew he would be there tonight – I longed to hear his voice again!

I excused myself and made my way through the crowds backstage, keeping my head down to avoid more notice. The compliments were all very nice, but I was rather shy, and all the sudden attention was overwhelming. The solitude of my dressing room would be a relief.

But I soon found that I was not alone. Meg had followed me. She knocked quickly, then burst into the room.

"Christine, you were brilliant! Brilliant! Oh, you _must_ tell me who your teacher is! He is a genius!"

Meg was glowing with excitement, excitement for me, I realized. She was so happy for me… It would be so cruel of me not to tell her now. Still, I hesitated, looking around my dressing room. I felt that he would understand if I told her now – I doubted that I would have been able to keep the secret much longer, anyway.

I then explained to Meg all about my father's stories of the Angel of Music, how he had told me so many times when I was a child, how I had believed him and then doubted after his death.

"But he spoke the truth, Meg – the Angel of Music _has_ come to me!" I finally said, my eyes lighting up like hers had been. "It is he who has taught me to sing, Meg. The Angel of Music!"

But the smile had vanished from my friend's face; instead, she looked worried.

"Christine, why are you speaking in riddles? It isn't like you at all…"

"Riddles? Meg, I am not 'speaking in riddles.' You heard his voice yourself! His is truly the voice of an angel!"

Meg stared at me for a moment, wondering why I would not tell her directly, I suppose. But my face fell. She did not believe me… but then, she had not known my father, had not heard the Angel the way I had.

Suddenly, Madame Giry opened the door.

"Meg! I called a rehearsal for the dancers half an hour ago. As you are a dancer, I expect you to be there!"

Meg nodded, shot me one more concerned glance, and left the room. Madame Giry nodded approvingly to me, and followed her daughter out, shutting the door behind her.

I stared into the full-length mirror in the corner of my dressing room. I did not strike me as looking like a madwoman – did I look that way to Meg now?

It was not long before there was another knock on my door. Before I could say anything, a man I did not recognize opened the door and stepped inside. Instinctively, I grabbed my dressing gown off the back of my chair and pulled it on over my costume.

"Christine Daaé, where is your scarf?" said the strange man with a smile.

"Monsieur?" I said hesitantly. There was suddenly something very familiar about him, in his voice, his eyes, his smile…

"You can't possibly have lost it. It would be terribly rude of you, after all the trouble I took. I was just fourteen and soaked to the skin…"

"…Because you had run into the sea to fetch my scarf! Raoul! Raoul, is it really you?" I said incredulously as I suddenly recognized him.

Raoul was the Vicomte that the managers mentioned earlier; their new patron. But to me, he was a childhood friend. I had met him one summer before my father died, and we had become fast friends. And he had heard all of my father's tales – including those of the Angel of Music! Perhaps he would believe me!

"Did you like the performance?" I asked shyly.

"Christine, you were wonderful this evening." he said, and he stepped forward and gave me a congratulatory hug. I returned his embrace with a grin, reminded easily of our old friendship.

"You sang beautifully." he said as he stepped back. "I always knew you were capable of great things. But the rumor is that you have a mysterious new teacher. Who is he? I would like to pay him my compliments."

"Have you been listening to Opera gossip, Raoul?" I chided teasingly, although I marveled at how fast the news had traveled. My 'teacher' had only been mentioned that morning!

"Raoul… do you remember my father's tales of the Angel of Music?"

"Of course I do. He loved to talk about it so."

"Before… before he died, he promised that he would send the Angel of Music to me. And he has, Raoul, he has!"  
"I have no doubt of that!" he said with a laugh.

I struggled to keep my smile from slipping from my face. He did not believe me either – he thought I was speaking of my triumph onstage! _Oh, Raoul, why can't you understand?_

Suddenly I found that he was inviting me to dinner.

"Raoul, I can't… the Angel of Music would not like it…" I said, not wanting to go anywhere with him now. I felt so foolish, trying to explain my Angel to my friends…

Raoul joked about not keeping me out late, then bowed out of the room, still chuckling. I closed my eyes against the tears that had suddenly started there, that night's performance suddenly forgotten. I wanted so much for someone to believe me – I was so tired of explaining myself, of generating odd looks. I did not want to be considered mad!

Oh, why would no one understand?

A/N: (ominous chord) Enter, Erik! Unfortunately, I will be in Maryland all or most of next week, therefore unable to do much at all to this story while I'm there. If you're nice and review, I'll try to have the next chapter up ASAP. But only if you're nice and review. Ciao!


	4. Floating, Falling

A/N: A huge thank you to **AriaGothique** and **TruthQuestor** for their reviews! Hopefully, I have done "The Music of the Night" justice.

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. Most of this plot is not mine. All of the songs are not mine. I thank those who they do belong to, wonderful, talented people that they are, for letting people like me use them.

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Chapter 4: Floating, Falling…

I suddenly heard the voice of my Angel, and I forgot Raoul instantly. He sounded angry – he cursed Raoul for his disrespectful conduct towards me, and, through me, towards him. He was far angrier than I had ever heard him – in fact, I was not sure I had ever heard him cross before. He had always spoken so reassuringly to me, always words of comfort and encouragement. I searched my mind quickly for a way to do the same for him now.

"_Angel! I hear you! Speak – I listen. Stay by my side, guide me_…" I sang to him. It was odd, almost as though his thoughts were tangible; I could almost _feel_ his anger cease instantly, like smoke on the wind, as he listened to my voice.

I sang the next few words more tentatively, as though I was afraid to say aloud what I had felt from the moment I first heard his wonderful voice.

"_Angel, my soul was weak – forgive me. Enter at last, master_!"

"Oh, dear child, you were marvelous this evening! The angels wept tonight!" he said, all traces of annoyance gone. "You speak so highly of me, dear one. Tonight you shall know why I have hidden from you for so long…"

My heart leapt into my throat. Was I to see my mysterious teacher at last?

"_Look at your face in the mirror_…" he sang, his voice soaring powerfully, and I obeyed. "… _I am there inside_!"

And there, inside my mirror, I could begin to make out the shape of a tall man. I stared at the mirror, transfixed; soon the image became clearer. It was as though my dressing room was becoming misty, darker, and a light shone all around him. I could soon see that he wore a long, black cloak and dress-clothes… and that the light that surrounded him gleamed on a white mask that covered half his face! It was Meg's Phantom! But then he called to me in his angel's voice, and I knew that my Angel and the Opera Ghost_ were_ one and the same. He reached out his hand to me, and I was not afraid. I knew that he would not harm me – he was still my Angel of Music. Slowly, I felt myself reaching out to take his hand. It was as though I was dreaming… I was aware only of his voice, and – at last! – his eyes, eyes that met my astonished gaze and held it powerfully, hypnotically. He guided me through the mirror and past the light into the dark world beyond, and I followed, completely mesmerized, capable of thinking only one thing – I could see my Angel at last!

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The passageway beyond my mirror was darker than the blackest night – I could not see a thing. But I knew my Angel was there – for one, his hand held mine firmly, and he guided me confidently through the black corridors. He also sang to me, perhaps to keep me from becoming frightened. I concentrated on his voice rather than the engulfing darkness, and soon I found myself joining him. My voice trembled at first, but then grew stronger as he pulled me along. It was almost as though he were teaching another lesson, here far beneath the Opera house.

I suddenly heard the faint sound of water. Not running water, not a river, nor like the waves of the sea. It was a gentle rippling noise, and I remembered that there was a lake far below the stage. Suddenly, there was a nearly blinding light – there, on the edge of the lake, was a small boat, a lantern affixed to the bow. My Angel guided me to the boat on the edge of the lake, and he helped me to step into it. I was in a daze, and if he had not been guiding my steps as he was, comforting me with his voice, I would have panicked. Instead I was quite composed as he pushed off from the edge of the lake, using a long pole to steer and power the boat. He continued to sing with me, and I realized he _was_ still teaching me. I had so much I had yet to learn, it seemed! I felt my voice reaching to new heights, climbing to notes I had never before dreamed of. The elation I felt as I noticed this only brought me higher.

My Angel had stopped singing, but he still urged me on:

"Sing, my Angel of Music! Sing for me!"

And I did – I sang better than I ever had before, until we reached the other side of the lake and I found that I could not make a sound.

To my astonishment, he led me from the shore to a _house_ by the lake. The light inside dazzled me for a moment – it seemed as though this house was lit by thousands of candles. I turned to my Angel, my mouth hanging open slightly in wonder, my wide eyes bright and questioning. He smiled at me and led me through his house – I assumed it must be his – until we reached a large room with what looked like an organ in it. Here he finally let go of my hand and sat down behind the keyboard.

I looked around the room, bewildered. There were more candles, of course, and they cast a soft, warm glow over everything. And, littered across the floor and between the candles were pages of music, some with notes scattered across them, others blank. I bent to pick one up, but I could make no sense of it. It was not like any other music I had ever seen.

"Yes, it would be a bit unusual to you, wouldn't it?" my Angel said softly. "I wrote it… I suppose that explains why."

I put down the sheet of music and stood to look at him, puzzled, still strangely unable to speak. He suddenly appeared different somehow, resigned, somewhat… sad.

"I am afraid I have tricked you, my dear… I am not an angel."

I shook my head; that could not be true!

But it seemed it was, somehow.

"No, Christine, it is true. I am neither angel nor phantom; I am a man. Erik is my name… you may call me that, if you wish to. I… I am a composer, Christine, and I have heard you singing in your dressing room often… You have been my inspiration, _mon ange_; I taught you so that you could sing my music…Christine… I am… so sorry. Please, can you ever forgive me for lying to you?"

Slowly, I nodded. Somehow, though, I did not quite believe what he said – he was still an angel to me. He had been so kind to me, so patient, so helpful… and his voice was most certainly that of an angel. I shut my eyes tightly for a moment, trying to gather my bearings, feeling slightly overwhelmed by it all. I shook my head a little as I opened them again, thoroughly nonplussed.

My angel – Erik now – seemed to sense this, and he got to his feet to stand beside me, once again soothing me with his voice. He told me not to be afraid, that the night was a good thing. I felt as though I had strayed into a dream; it was all so unreal, so unfathomable. How could I be here, beneath the Opera house, across the lake? How was there a house here? I turned my head to look around me again, to try and make sense of it all, but Erik touched his gloved fingers gently to my cheek, turning my gaze back towards him. His touch surprised me, and I gasped slightly. He had come very close to me, and I had to look up to meet his strong gaze. His hand dropped back to his side, and he continued to sing to me, his eyes never leaving mine. His gaze was so intense that I wanted to look away, to turn my head, but I could not. I was completely mesmerized by his voice.

"_Close your eyes and let music set you free! Only then can you belong to me_…"

I shut my eyes obediently. I heard his voice move around behind me – I could not hear his footsteps at all – and I felt his arm slowly wrap around me. Although slightly startled, I found myself leaning back against him with a sigh; I felt almost as though I were melting beneath his fingers…

He stepped away from me, reluctantly, it seemed, and I opened my eyes and turned to face him. He took my hand and led me over to a corner of the room, towards a large something I hadn't seen before. He took hold of the dusty velvet cover and, looking back at me, pulled it off.

It seemed to be an enormous, broken mirror. But, if it _was_ a broken mirror, how then could I see myself in it? It was most certainly my reflection… every detail exactly the same, except… except that the real me was wearing my dressing gown over my costume from _Hannibal_, and the me in the mirror was wearing a beautiful wedding dress. Puzzled, I reached a hand out, hoping to feel the cold hard surface of a mirror… Instead, the me in the mirror flopped forward alarmingly. It was too strange – I felt myself falling into blackness…

I could have sworn I heard his voice in my dreams that night:

"_You alone can make my song take flight_…"

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A/N: Next chapter up soon! Please review! -Kyrie


	5. The Garish Light of Day

A/N: A HUGE thank you to **HDKingsbury** for reading my whole story and leaving _four_ reviews. Thanks so much for your compliments and advice! A thank you should be here for another person as well, but I haven't a clue who you are, as you posted your review under my name... very strange. If you review again, please tell me who you are so I can thank you properly! Of course, this is where things begin to go awry for our heroine... and for our authoress. I've tried to keep Christine in-character as much as possible while not having her seem damsel-y or un-intelligent. Hopefully, it's worked.

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Not profiting. Songs arent' mine.

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Chapter 5: The Garish Light of Day

I woke to the soft sound of a music box near my head. I was puzzled by this for a moment – I did not own a music box – but then I opened my eyes. I was not at home, after all. I was in a room I did not recognize in the slightest. But then the music box died away, and in its place, I heard the sound of someone furiously playing an organ. Instantly, I knew where I was – Erik's house on the lake – and I remembered everything that had happened the night before. I got to my feet and followed the sound of the organ, still moving as though in a trance. Something about this house – perhaps that everything here, everything that had happened, exuded an air of illusion – kept me wide-eyed, staring, spellbound.

I found Erik in the room he had shown me the night before, and he was hard at work. He didn't see me when I walked in. I simply watched him for what seemed a long while; he was somehow fascinating and intimidating at the same time.

I suddenly remembered Meg's tale of the Phantom of the Opera; I heard her voice distinctly: "…Dress-clothes, and a long black cloak, made of the shadows themselves! And a white mask, white as the snow, that covers half his face. Why?" I remembered her ostentatious shrug… And I looked over to Erik, my eyes full of curiosity. I had noticed his mask the night before; it was exactly like Meg had said: pure white, covering half his face. _Why?_ Why indeed… I suddenly felt that I had to see why he covered his face… In my mind, an angel had no reason to hide…

It seemed I had at last regained my voice, and I whispered a song as I walked towards him, loud enough only for me to hear:

"_Who was that shape in the shadows? Whose is the face in the mask_…?"

As I reached towards him, he turned to me at last. I put a gentle hand on his face, then positioned my trembling fingers to pull his mask away… His hand shot up… a second too late…

His mask had come off in my hand, and I had stifled my scream with my other hand. Erik was not an angel, nor was he a man! His face… _Mon Dieu_, his face! It was the face of a monster, so distorted, so deformed; it was hardly a face…

I will never forget the almost inhuman cry of grief and rage he uttered when I pulled his mask away and screamed. He rounded on me, his hand attempting to cover his horrible face.

"Curse you! Wicked Pandora, is _this_ what you wanted to see? Is it?" he roared.

I found myself shaking my head, my hand still clamped firmly over my mouth, a scream held tightly back in my throat… I didn't even realize that I had tears streaming down my cheeks. Erik advanced towards me, and I backed quickly away.

"Damn it, Christine! Had to see the _face_ of the voice, did you? Well, here it is, here it is!"

And he spread his hands wide like an actor onstage, uncovering his face. I could not look away as he came closer.

"Had enough, Christine?" he said, taking me roughly by the shoulders, his horrible face right there, inches away from mine. He smiled terribly; all traces of the kind, gentle, angelic teacher I had known were gone, replaced by this monster of a man…

He threw me roughly to the floor, and walked away from me, still cursing me. I raised my head to look at him as he sank to his knees, covering his face with his hand again.

"Oh, Christine…" he whispered. There was so much pain in his voice…

I pushed myself up into a sitting position when he said my name. His anger seemed to have vanished – he knelt there on the floor across the room from me with his head bowed; he finally spoke softly to me.

"You never imagined so strange a thing in your darkest dreams, did you, Christine? I was still an angel to you… Can you even bear to look at this… monster? Yes, Christine, I have the face of a monster… I _am_ a phantom. But… oh, Christine, Christine… You will learn to see past this… Fear can turn to love… You will learn to see beyond this repulsive face… Oh, Christine…"

Tears still flowed down my face, but they were no longer frightened tears, rather those of pity. It was unbidden, perhaps, but my heart went out to this monster of a man… an angel trapped in the face of a phantom. Wordlessly, I moved a little closer to him, held out his mask to him. He turned slowly to look at me, saw me returning his mask… Quickly, he snatched it back and pressed it to his face again. He got to his feet and looked sadly down at me, as though wishing he could turn back time and prevent me from revealing his face… I wished it, too.

"Come, we must return. Those two fools who run my theater will be missing you."

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Our journey back to ground level seemed to take far less time than our journey to the house the night before. It was as though one moment Erik was leading me out of his house on the lake, and the next moment I was out in the air, on a deserted Paris street, and he was gone. It seemed I had not spent the whole night in his underground home – the sun was rising behind me. Dazed, I wandered aimlessly forwards, hardly knowing where I was – I had never seen this part of the Opera house before, or ever been on this street – until, by an amazing stroke of luck, I saw Madame Giry and Meg coming towards me. I wondered momentarily what they were doing out so early, and I tried to call out to them, but again not a sound escaped my lips. Madame Giry suddenly seemed to recognize me, and she ran towards me, grabbing my shoulders. I was immensely grateful for this, for as soon as she did so, the world seemed to spin disconcertingly. I vaguely thought that Meg and her mother might think I was drunk, but I wasn't… I didn't know what was wrong with me.

"Christine! Christine, what's happened to you? You vanished after the performance last night – everyone was so worried!" Meg cried, looking at my too-pale face in alarm.

"Hush, Meg." Madame Giry said firmly, still supporting me. "Come, Christine, let's get you home."

I looked up to meet her eyes, which were, amazingly, full of understanding. I nodded, and the three of us headed back towards my flat.

Although it was only a short walk away, I was very glad when we arrived home. Embarrassingly, we had to have my landlady unlock my door – my key was still with my things at the Opera house.

"Meg, go and get Christine some tea." Madame Giry ordered as I sat down heavily on my own bed.

"Madame Giry… how did you know? How did you know about my music lessons? And… you know where I've been, don't you? How? Who is he?"

Madame Giry just shook her head, not denying that she did know everything I had just said, but not telling me how she knew. It was for the better, I suppose – I doubt that I would have been able to handle it just then.

Meg came in with a cup of tea for me, and I took it with a wavering smile.

"Come, Meg, let's go. Christine just needs some rest."

"Yes… I'll be fine, really. _Merci beaucoup_, both of you."

Meg, although still looking concerned, returned my smile. Madame Giry told me to get some rest, to which I nodded, and they both left. I suppose it was a bit unkind of me, but I didn't drink the tea Meg had brought me – instead, I put it down and fell back onto my bed, completely and utterly exhausted. I was asleep in a matter of moments.

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A/N: Poor Christine. Poor Erik. Not happy for either of them, really. Have I done a good job? Please let me know! I'll let you in on a secret: I've a good deal of the story already written, needing only another edit or two. If you're nice and review, I'll post faster. Thanks for reading! -Kyrie


	6. Hysteria

A/N: Mystery solved! The mysterious person who reviewed masquerading as me was, in fact, my little sister. Whoops.

A HUGE thank you to **Nedjmet **for reading my whole story and my oneshot and leaving me six reviews! Hooray, Nedjmet! And since I've gotten a lot of great reviews recently, I'm going to give you a present and post two chapters: Six and seven. That will finish out Act I. Enjoy!

Usual Disclaimer: Character's aren't mine. Plot's not mine. Songs aren't mine. I only get the satisfaction of relieving summer boredom and getting reviews out of it. Thanks!

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Chapter 6: Hysteria

When I arrived back at the Opera the next day, there was not a single person I passed who did not give me an inquiring look. I found Meg quickly, and she filled me in on what had happened during my… absence.

"The Vicomte went back to your dressing room – did he _really_ invite you to dinner?"

"Yes – Raoul is a childhood friend of mine. What were you saying?" I prompted.

"Of course. Well, he went back to your dressing room, and the door was locked, and he heard a man's voice from inside, calling to you. He said he shouted your name, but got no answer. He caused quite the uproar, I can assure you. He asked practically every cast member he could get his hands on where you were; they all said you'd probably gone home. I thought you were still in your dressing room, with your… teacher. I went back to look for you later – the door was open then, somehow. But you quite obviously weren't there.

"Then Mama and I found you wandering around on the Rue Scribe, of all places, and we took you home. You know that. But then we went back to the Opera, to tell them we'd found you. We went into the managers' office and there was this enormous row – it seems that everyone had gotten notes from the Opera Ghost that night! Monsieur le Vicomte had one forbidding him to see you again; Carlotta had one that you would be replacing her. Even Mama had one – I don't know where she got it from. But the Ghost instructed that _you_ were to be given the part of the Countess in _Il Muto_ and Carlotta – Carlotta! – was to play the page boy! Well, I'm sorry, Christine, but the managers are laughing in his face with that one – they've turned it around… Christine?"

I had winced involuntarily when Meg had said "his face." I did not want to think about it, but it seemed that I would be perpetually reminded of his monstrous face…

"Christine… the Vicomte's note said something rather odd… it said: 'Do not fear for Miss Daaé – the Angel of Music has her under his wing.' Christine… that's who you told me your teacher was, but I've seen _his_ notes before. Mama always finds them and gives them to the managers. Your teacher… could he… but he _couldn't_ be… Christine, have you ever _seen_ him?"

I shook my head. Meg would figure it out anyway, now.

"Christine, did… your teacher… the _Phantom_ take you away yesterday? Was that where you were?"

I looked around us, but this corridor was far from the stage and deserted. Even so, I could never be sure if it was _really_ deserted, could I? It would be child's play for the Phantom to hide from me.

"You mustn't tell anyone else, Meg. _Anyone_, do you understand?"

Meg nodded vigorously, her face white.

"Oh, Christine, what happened?"

But I only shook my head. I could barely make sense of it myself – I couldn't bring myself to tell Meg just then.

Suddenly, someone swaggered into the hallway. It was Joseph Buquet, the chief flyman. He looked at us, surprised to find us there, but pleased to see us in a way that neither Meg nor I liked at all.

"Ladies, what are you doing so far from the stage? They're starting rehearsal."

"I might ask the same of you, Monsieur Buquet." I said sternly, looking coldly up at him.

He laughed. Meg frowned.

"Girls, call me Joseph, please." He paused for a moment, and looked directly at me, smiling disconcertingly. "I heard you had an interesting time of it the night before last, Christine."

"Miss Daaé." I corrected him, taking a step backwards.

"Ah, yes, that's right, girls. Get off to rehearsal, now. You wouldn't want to run into the Ghost round here." He laughed again and walked off, reminding me unpleasantly of a strutting rooster.

"Come on, Meg. We should be going."

"He knows too much about the Phantom, if you ask me." Meg said, sounding annoyed.

I was tempted to ask her whether she was one to talk, but I didn't.

"Anyone who knows anything about him knows too much." I whispered, rather cryptically, I realized.

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Two days after I'd disappeared, Raoul came to see me. I was immeasurably glad to see him, another normal face! I smiled and stood up as he came into my dressing room.

"Christine! I'm so glad to see you're safe!"

My face fell. He would want to know where I'd been.

"Please, Raoul, don't ask me about what happened. I can't…"

I fell silent, and I suddenly found that I was choking back tears. Perhaps anyone else might have thought it was an act, but it wasn't at all, and Raoul could see that somehow. He gently took my hands in his and smiled reassuringly at me.

"Please, Christine, try and tell me. It might help…"

But I shook my head. I doubted that he had heard a rumor that I had been carried off by the Opera Ghost himself; even the cast was not so far gone as to guess at that.

I changed the subject.

"Raoul, it's been so long… How have you been?"

We spent all that evening reminiscing on the time we had spent together as children. I didn't realize what time it was until nearly ten o'clock, and when I exclaimed that I really had to be getting home, Raoul walked me back to my flat. It was all quite kind of him, really; I'd had a rather pleasant evening.

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If the managers had wanted to degrade me, thus pleasing Carlotta, they were doing a fine job of it. For the last performances of _Hannibal_'s considerably shortened run, I was brusquely returned to the _corps de ballet_, and I was to play the _mute_ pageboy Serafimo in the upcoming production of _Il Muto_. I remembered Meg telling me about it, but I had been completely distracted by her inadvertent mention of Erik's face. She didn't know, after all… But Carlotta was certainly enjoying her role, and flaunting it in my face. I would not have minded much if it had not been for that – after all, ballet dancers do not sing. But Serafimo didn't dance either, so I was quite essentially doing nothing. That was not at all what I needed at the moment – I needed a complicated song or dance routine to throw myself into, to help me forget the horrors of that night.

My humiliation was cinched the day we were given our costumes. I, of course, had to dress as a man, which will, no doubt, never be forgotten by my once-fellow dancers. Meg, at least, had the decency to apologize for laughing so hard.

Not that I would have cared at all for Carlotta's costume either – in fact, she looked quite as ridiculous as I did, although at least she was wearing skirts. I did, however, take great satisfaction in seeing her parade about in an enormous powdered wig.

For me, the performance came all too fast. I could not help but think of what had happened after the last performance… But then, Erik would not have anything to congratulate me on this time. I had not heard him in my dressing room since he had taken me back up from his underground world, a fact that was more distressing than I dared admit to myself. A small part of me was afraid that something had happened to him. Every so often, I found myself sitting in my dressing room after a rehearsal, waiting for his voice to fill the room, but it never did, of course. He was quite probably as furious with me as I was now terrified of him. And yet, was I really? On rare occasions, I was able to get past the horror of his face and his fury for a few moments, and I remembered how pitiful he had seemed once his rage had subsided. He really had looked like a fallen angel…

Apparently, I had started "daydreaming" once again, this time in the wings, because Meg was poking me hard in the shoulder and hissing at me that I had to go onstage in about two minutes, so I had better snap out of it. I blinked and shook my head, then steeled myself for the utter humiliation of it all.

But only five minutes into the performance, a voice echoed throughout the theater, a voice I would have known anywhere.

"DID I NOT INSTRUCT THAT BOX FIVE WAS TO BE KEPT EMPTY?"

It was Erik! I looked up to Box Five, the box that was supposed to be held specifically for the Phantom, and there sat Raoul, bold as brass.

And Erik was somewhere nearby, of that I was sure.

"It's him, I know it! It's him!" I said without realizing it.

"Your part is _silent_, little toad." Carlotta snapped at me, waving her fan dangerously close to my face.

"A TOAD, MADAME? PERHAPS IT IS _YOU_ WHO ARE THE TOAD!"

Silence rang through the theater for a long, tense moment. Then the opera resumed, Carlotta singing even more irritatingly, perhaps in defiance to the interrupting voice.

"_Serafimo, away with this pretence! You cannot speak, but kiss me in my_…"

She never finished the phrase, for instead of words and notes, an enormous croak came out of her mouth. She looked mortified; I could not help but goggle at her in shock. Hadn't Erik just called her a toad…?

Carlotta tried to continue, despite a mild chuckle from the audience, but it wasn't long before another dreadful croak escaped her. I truly did feel terrible for her – she kept trying to sing, but all that came out of her mouth were croaks… I could hear Erik laughing somewhere above me…

Finally, Carlotta fled the stage in hysterics. I didn't blame her, really. But suddenly, André had grabbed me and was explaining that the performance would resume in just a few minutes, and that I would be playing the Countess in Carlotta's stead. He then shunted me off to go change, and I heard him say something about the ballet in Act III…

The ballet, too, did not get far before disaster struck. I heard Meg screaming, and I raced back onstage. I very nearly screamed myself – Joseph Buquet was hanging by the neck from the flies! I didn't see Raoul until he was right in front of me, his hands on my shoulders. He cursed quietly when he followed my horrified gaze to Buquet's body – he hadn't wanted me to see.

"Christine, come this way…" he said, taking my hand and trying to pull me away from the stage.

"No, Raoul." I said, my voice shaking. "We have to go to the roof… he can't… we'll be safe there." Erik lived underground… he would not follow me to the roof… would he?

I dragged Raoul through the chaos backstage, making my way as quickly as I could to the roof of the Opera house, Erik's laughter still ringing in my ears. _Mon Dieu_, what had I gotten myself into?

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A/N: Thanks for reading! Now, on to the next chappie! (And yes, for those of you familiar with "The Light in the Piazza," I did borrow the chapter title from there. I shamelessly borrow chapter titles from anything I can get my hands on.) : ) Kyrie


	7. Betrayal

Here's chapter 7! And, for once, a chapter title I didn't borrow, but it's one word, so I can't really have that count. Please R&R! Enjoy!

Usual Disclaimer: See chapter six.

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Chapter 7: Betrayal

The cold night air that hit my face as I stepped out onto the roof of the Opera house was a welcome sensation. This was real; I could be sure of that. I couldn't trust myself anymore, it seemed…

"Christine, why on Earth have you brought us up here? You'll catch your death in this weather…" Raoul said irritably.

"Raoul, please don't ask me… just don't take me back there!"

"Christine, what's gotten into you? What's happened? We have to go back…"

"No! Raoul, please…"

I thought I heard a faint hissing noise from nearby, and I whirled around.

"He's there…" I whispered, although I could not see him anywhere. Another illusion…?

"Who's there?"

"The… the Phantom of the Opera!"

"What? Christine, that's just a myth!"

I shook my head fearfully. Raoul tried to wrap his arms around me, but I stepped away.

"There is no Phantom of the Opera, Christine."

"I've seen him, Raoul! He's all too real; I can assure you of that! He took my hand… led me beneath the Opera house…"

"_That's_ where you were?" Raoul cried incredulously.

"Yes… He _is_ real – I saw him! I… I saw his face! His horrible, monstrous face! He was so angry… He was _furious_…"

I shuddered at the thought of Erik's horrible temper and looked out over the rooftops of Paris below us. I shut my eyes; I did not want to see anything just then, least of all remember what I had already seen…

But then it seemed I heard a quiet song carried on the wind, and I was suddenly reminded of Erik's voice, his angel's voice…

"But Raoul… his voice… it was the most wonderful thing I've ever heard. He truly was the Angel of Music… And he was so sad, Raoul… There was something in his eyes that pleaded with me… I don't know what it was, but I _pitied_ him, Raoul, more than I've ever pitied anyone…"

"It was a dream, Christine."

I shook my head, but Raoul just smiled at me. Perhaps it had been a dream…?

"Christine…" Raoul said softly, reaching a hand out towards me.

Another voice echoed him, a voice I knew…

_"Christine…"_

I whirled around, looking for Erik once again, but again I did not see him. Was I imagining it? Or was he really there, and he had heard everything I had said?

But then Raoul gathered me in his arms from behind.

"Don't be afraid, Christine. I'm here. I'm here; I'll keep you safe."

His soft, low voice was so soothing, so comforting… he somehow chased away all the shadows that had been clouding my mind, and I realized what he was saying. He loved me.

"Keep me safe always, Raoul. Chase away the darkness…"

"Oh, Christine… You're safe here with me, I promise you. Christine… let me stay by your side… Anywhere you go… let me go too…"

Finally, I felt as though I had an escape from Erik. I had been so trapped – confined to his Opera house, never sure whether or not he was in the shadows, watching, waiting… And yet Raoul was offering me a way out at last…

"Christine, I love you!" he whispered, and I turned around and smiled up at him.

Raoul returned my smile warmly, and he put his hand gently on my cheek. Then, tentatively, he tilted my face upwards, leaned down, and kissed me.

I suddenly felt as though I was truly safe at last.

Just as suddenly, though, I realized that they would be looking for me – the performance was not over, and, well, "the show must go on." I stepped away from Raoul and explained to him. With a wink, he told me that he would be waiting in the wings for me after the performance – we would escape from the horrors of the Phantom together, that night. As he led me to the door that led back into the Opera house, I could have sworn I heard a small sob… But it had to be the wind.

It seemed, however, that Erik _had_ been there on the roof, that everything I had heard and thought I imagined had really been him, for as we were taking our bows at last, he sent the enormous chandelier crashing towards us. For a moment, I was strangely unable to move, but Raoul leapt out of the wings and pulled me away just in time. I could not stop shaking until we were hours away from Paris, the Opera house, and the Opera Ghost's laughter.

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A/N: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review! And thanks to "me!" for pointing out the "though" that should have been "thought." Now, press that button! Thanks!


	8. Paper Faces on Parade

A/N: Hello! Thank yous to **Nedjmet**, **HDKingsbury**, **Truth Questor**, and** LonesomeGurlAngelofDeath** for their wonderful reviews! Dances round in happy little circles.> I'm so glad you like my story! And so, since I've now got twenty four reviews and some time alone in the basement, here be chapter eight! Further Note: Yes, I know I'm following the plot of the play, but I chose to go with the movie's three months rather than the play's six because (as some of you might have noticed by my rather fast-paced writing style) I hate dragging things out over too long a time. Plus, it works better with my story. So, three months it is. Hope I've written Christine's mental tug-of-war all right!

Usual Disclaimer: Christine, Erik, Raoul, Assorted Other Characters, the Paris Opera House, the French language, and the lyrics to "Why So Silent?" do not, unfortunately, belong to me, and I am using them merely for recreational purposes.

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Chapter 8: Paper Faces on Parade…

I stayed for three months at the Chagny's country estate. Three very long months where I was able to begin to come to grips with what had happened to me. But only begin – for some strange reason, I was unable to think clearly about Erik.

I did know now that I had been a fool. I had run from him because of the horror of his face, and I wished that I hadn't. Was that the only reason I was afraid of him? No… no, he had killed Buquet! I struggled to understand why, and the only answer I could procure came from what Meg had told me. "He knows too much about the Phantom, if you ask me," she had said. Buquet must have seen his face – did that mean he would come after me now?

But a small part of me insisted that he would not – he was my Angel of Music! He would not harm me. Perhaps Buquet's death had been an accident. André and Firmin had insisted that it was only an unfortunate mishap in _L'Epoque_. I suddenly wanted so much for that to be true…

And Erik had heard me betray him to Raoul that night on the roof… I felt sick just to think of it. I should never have told Raoul, but I had been so frightened – with good reason! – and he had offered me comfort… But Erik had once comforted me as well. I remembered when I had first heard his voice, and I had almost felt as though it was my father himself teaching me to sing… And now he was gone, and it was my fault. Of course, there was not a single trace of him here, so far from Paris. But I found myself hoping against hope that I would turn a corner and hear his angel's voice once again…

Raoul seemed to sense that something was troubling me, and he tried to console me the same way he had on the roof. We spent many a pleasant hour talking about our childhood, and that summer we had met in Brittany, before my father died. I asked him what on earth had possessed him to rescue my scarf in the first place; his response was that he knew even then that he loved me.

I soon began to wish I was back at the Opera – I missed the excitement! I missed Meg; I missed the sound of my voice filling an empty theater when I practiced there alone before rehearsals… I missed the sound of _Erik's_ voice coaching me so gently… and yet I was still afraid of what might happen if I did go back. I felt safe with Raoul; I trusted him, and I was rather fond of him. He was a great friend to me; I could not have asked for a greater confidante.

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Raoul asked me to marry him.

I found myself, once again, unable to speak, to make a sound. He had said he loved me, yes, but still… his proposal came as a bit of a shock. I could not answer him, I just could not – I was truly fond of him, but… something held me back.

Raoul seemed to understand my hesitation, somehow.

"You've been through so much, Christine, but you needn't worry anymore. You know I love you, Christine. I always have."

And, looking slightly embarrassed, he pressed a beautiful diamond ring into my hand and turned away. I stared at the ring in my hand in shock, and also slightly irritated with myself. Why was it suddenly so hard for me to think straight?

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A few days later, I was sitting alone in my room, reading, when Raoul knocked and came in, an opened envelope and card in his hand. I looked up from my book to him with a questioning glance.

"Christine, we have been invited to the annual _Bal Masque_ at the Opera." Raoul said simply, handing me the card.

I took it and read it over, once, twice, even three times, my heart lifting with a sudden, unexpected longing. To go back to the Opera at last…!

"Oh, Raoul, could we?" I said, looking up to meet his eyes again after a long moment, my face positively glowing with anticipation.

Raoul seemed rather startled at my reaction to the invitation.

"Well, yes, of course, if it means that much to you…"

"Oh, yes, it does! I have missed the Opera so much…!" I said, trailing off and getting to my feet. It was then that I noticed the hesitation in Raoul's eyes.

"Raoul? What is it?" I asked, my expression changing quickly from delight to puzzlement.

"It's just… I'm not sure that this is a good idea, Christine."

"Why?"

"I don't want you to have to go through another encounter with… that Opera Ghost you told me about."

I looked away. I was not sure whether I wanted to meet Erik there again or not… the sight of Buquet hanging from the flies still haunted my dreams. And yet, to hear my angel's voice again…

"Christine…"

Raoul's concerned voice broke through my reverie abruptly.

"This isn't a good idea, Christine. You shouldn't go back to that Opera house; it's too dangerous."

I stiffened at his implication.

"So you would prefer it if I never sang again?" I said quietly, almost angrily. The thought of what he was asking me to do filled me with a despair I had never known.

"Christine, you know you are welcome to sing here any time you would like. I love to listen to you sing, but… I do not want to risk your safety in returning to the Opera… and, once we are married, you cannot work. It would be… unseemly."

I subconsciously touched the engagement ring he had given me. I wore it on a chain around my neck rather than on my finger; for some reason, I could not bear to accept his proposal; but then, nor could I refuse it.

"Raoul, please…" I pleaded quietly, but then I quickly regained my composure and looked up at him again.

"You seem to have forgotten that I have friends as well as… enemies at the Opera, Raoul." It hurt to call Erik my enemy, but I could see no other way to make Raoul agree to this. I then quoted what Meg had said to me that evening she had dragged me off for a bit of fun with the other ballerinas. "Goodness knows, I've been gone so long that Meg and the others won't recognize me!"

Raoul didn't say anything for a long moment, so I coaxed him again.

"Please, Raoul. The Phantom won't show himself at the Masquerade; there will be too many people around. I am the only one who has ever really seen him, and I doubt he plans to change his solitary ways."

This, more than anything else I had said, convinced Raoul that it would be safe to take me back to Paris. I thanked him profusely, smiling brightly, pushing his threat to reign in my voice to the back of my mind.

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When the grand façade of the Paris Opera House came into view through Raoul's carriage window, I nearly burst into tears of joy. I had to work hard to quell the urge to run up the wide steps like a child; I was glad of Raoul's steadying presence by my side. He grinned comfortingly at me, and together we stepped through the doors into an otherworldly display of beauty, light, and color. Somewhere, there was music playing, and a group of people were dancing. When I had said that it would be far too crowded for the Opera Ghost to make an appearance, I had been right – it seemed as though all of Paris had been invited to the grand event! Here and there I could pick out a familiar face; one of the ballet girls, or a member of the chorus.

"Raoul, do you see Meg anywhere?" I asked, trying to see around the scores of people.

Raoul was quite a bit taller than me – though not as tall as Erik, I had noticed – and he could see around the crowd far better than I could.

"Yes, there she is. Over there, by the Grand Staircase."

I thanked Raoul and let go of his hand to wind through the sea of people towards Meg. When I had finally reached her, I saw that her mother was standing beside her.

"Meg! Madame Giry!" I said cheerily, beaming.

They both looked around to see who had called them, and I waved when they spotted me.

"Christine!" Meg cried, and she rushed forward and hugged me. I returned the hug warmly, my grin somehow widening.

"Christine, we've missed you so much! Where on earth have you been all this time?"

"Raoul took me to stay at his family's estate… But please, tell me what's happened here! I've wanted so much to come back!"

Meg hurried to tell me everything I had missed, but it seemed that the last three months had been strangely uneventful. Madame Giry, so far, had said nothing.

I suddenly felt that I had to ask about Erik. I had been trying to think of a way to discreetly find out if he was all right ever since Raoul had shown me the invitation, but to no avail.

"I… and what of the Ghost, Meg? You haven't said anything about his latest trick. I… I love to hear you tell stories, Meg."

I knew that it would be terribly awkward for Meg; I remembered how sternly her mother had reprimanded her before, and I was not surprised when she didn't reply and looked at the floor. I was nearly shocked, however, when it was Madame Giry who spoke.

"He has been neither seen nor heard from at all these past three months. I'm sorry, my dear." she said stiffly, although with a trace of sympathy behind her words.

I stared at her, stunned, for what seemed a long time. I saw Meg look from me to her mother and back again, her expression that of extreme puzzlement; why was I looking so alarmed, and why had Madame Giry apologized? But I barely noticed her glance at all. What had happened to Erik? Was he hurt? Ill? Why had he not been up to his usual mischief? Oh, God, what had happened to my angel?

"The managers think he's dead." Meg said, perhaps trying to pry an explanation out of me. The only response she got was a sharp "Meg!" from her mother; I paled for a moment, then forced myself to change the subject.

"So… has La Carlotta been enjoying my absence, then?" I asked shakily.

"Oh, yes. For a while, she never ceased to remind us that she had 'won'…"

Meg continued to chatter on, but I couldn't listen. I was too worried about Erik! Was he truly dead, then? Would I never hear his beautiful voice again? I looked to Madame Giry, hoping that this seemingly omnipotent woman could provide an answer, but she just smiled sadly, her eyes full of understanding, and shook her head.

Suddenly, Raoul came up behind me. Meg's recount of Carlotta's absurdities fell silent, and I turned around to meet his calm smile.

"Good evening, Monsieur le Vicomte." Meg said primly, and Madame Giry curtsied slightly.

"Good evening, Mademoiselle, Madame Giry. I am glad to find you both well." Raoul replied in the same courteous tone, then turned to me. "Come, Christine; may I have this dance?" he bowed, offering me his arm and smiling.

I nodded, excused myself from the Girys, and followed Raoul to the center of the Grand Foyer, where many others were dancing in wild circles. We joined them, and I let Raoul steer me through the dances. I could live like this, I thought. It would be so easy to just accept his proposal and let him guide me through life, the way he guided me through the dance steps…

Suddenly, I heard someone scream – Meg, of course. I whirled around to find her, and I saw that she was looking up towards the top of the Grand Staircase. I gripped Raoul's arm tightly – it was Erik! He _had_ come to the Masquerade, costumed as Red Death. All my fears of him slammed into me as I saw him walk down a few steps, staring menacingly at the people on either side of him, as though daring them to threaten him. The music was gone, the festivity that had only moments before been so joyful, so complete, had vanished. I remembered Erik's horrible face, the way he had screamed so fearsomely at me when I had seen it, Buquet's murder…

But then he began so speak – almost sing, really – and my fears melted away. His voice seemed to have a strange power over me; it drew me to him and pushed all my uncertainties aside. He was Erik, my Angel of Music, and he would never hurt me! I listened to every word he said, mysteriously spellbound.

"Why so silent, good messieurs? Did you think that I had left you for good? Have you missed me, good messieurs? I have been busy these past months – I have written you an opera! Here I bring the finished score – it is called _Don Juan Triumphant_. I advise you to comply to all my instructions, gentlemen; they should be clear enough. And remember that there are worse things than a shattered chandelier..."

He trailed off threateningly, allowing us to imagine what disasters he could possibly have planned if we did not acquiesce, and his eyes traveled over the crowd at his feet and somehow found mine.

"_Viens__à moi, mon ange de la musique_…"

With a mixture of fear and elation, I moved towards him like one possessed. Raoul could not stop me, somehow, and I was suddenly standing at Erik's feet, looking up at him. He descended the last few steps to stand in front of me, and when I met his strong, hypnotic gaze, I saw something in his eyes that I could not pinpoint…

He reached out a hand as though to touch my cheek gently, the way he had the night he had taken me to his home. But his hand stopped a few inches away from me. His eyes dropped downward, and then suddenly, his hand shot out towards me. He grabbed the chain that held Raoul's engagement ring and tore it from my throat.

"Your chains are _mine_, Christine Daaé! Mine!"

And then, just as suddenly, he vanished in a cloud of smoke. Raoul grabbed my arm and tried to pull me away, but I was rooted to the spot. Wildly, I looked around me, and I saw Madame Giry staring pityingly at me. Again, I wondered what she knew and how…

It seemed that Raoul saw her glance too, and that he too craved the answers, for he strode off towards her, leaving me alone. I was suddenly aware of everyone's eyes upon me, and for the first time, that was a terrifying, sickening sensation.

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A/N: So, what did you think? Am I going completely awry with trying to twist the plot around? Please let me know! Thanks for reading!

I remain, readers, your obedient servant, K.A.


	9. Questions, Comfort, and a Cup of Tea

A/N: Thanks muchly to **HDKingsbury** and **Nedjmet** for their lovely reviews, and for being so wonderfully faithful about it! I hope I'm still managing to characterize well, and that you like my chapter title - I thought it was funny... Right, well, without (much) further ado, Chapter Nine.

**Usual Disclaimer**: I do not own any of these characters, most of this plot, the Paris Opera House, or any songs I might stick in. I did, however, rework one line of "Angel of Music" for this chapter. And, to quote a favorite fic writer of mine, all errors belong to me. Blast. Sorry 'bout that.

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Chapter 9: Questions, Comfort, and a Cup of Tea

I fled the Grand Foyer as quickly as I could, not bothering to be discreet about my sudden exit. Barely containing a flood of tears, I ran to the only place in the Opera that I knew I could be alone, at least for a few moments – my dressing room. It was dusty, cold, and unlit after three months of disuse, but I didn't notice, didn't care. I fell to my knees in the middle of the room, buried my face in my hands, and sobbed.

What had I done? Oh, Erik, what had I done? Everything he'd said to me suddenly made sense – but it was too little, too late. That night he had taken me to his underground home, he had said "You alone can make my song take flight…" After I had removed his mask; "Fear can turn to love…" He had said my name over and over again, as though the sound of it was precious to him… and on the roof, I _had_ heard him cry quietly… For a moment, before he had grown furious, he had looked utterly devastated when he had seen me wearing Raoul's engagement ring… Erik loved me! And I had hurt him so much without even realizing it!

"Oh, Erik, Erik, forgive me…" I sobbed.

I understood my uncertainty for accepting Raoul's proposal as well. I cursed myself quietly – why had I been so blind for so long? I knew then that a part of me, perhaps more than that, loved Erik as well; his angel's voice, his kind, gentle instruction, the way he guided me and yet allowed me freedom… And I had lost all that, it seemed, and it was my own fault. I doubted that he would ever forgive me for the pain I had caused him, and I wondered if I could ever forgive myself…

"Christine! Christine, where are you?"

It was Raoul. He had come looking for me, but I could not answer him. I remained on the floor in my dressing room, tears still streaming down my cheeks.

"_Angel of Music_… _please forgive me_… _Come to me, my angel_…" I sang quietly, brokenly, but the room remained silent for a long moment, and when the silence was broken, it was with Raoul's voice and not Erik's.

"Christine, there you are… Oh, God, what happened out there? Why did you walk up to that monster?"

I shook my head, unable to explain.

"Why did you leave me alone?" I snapped, slightly angry. Raoul had not been there to protect me from the stares, but he had wanted to 'save' me from my angel. I was learning now that he was there only at the wrong moments.

"That ballet mistress of yours has been keeping secrets, Christine. It seems that you are not the only one to have seen this 'Phantom.'"

"What did she say? What does she know?" I asked, looking round at Raoul at last.

But he shook his head, smiling reassuringly.

"Come, Christine, let's get you away from here…" he said gently, and he reached out to take my hand.

"No!" I cried, getting to my feet without taking his hand. "I must talk to Madame Giry, right now."

"Christine…"

But I had already brushed past Raoul and I was half-running down the hallway before he could call me again. I knew I had been rude – I would apologize later. But if Madame Giry did know about Erik… I had no idea of what I hoped to achieve by interrogating her, but I somehow had to find out what she knew.

I found myself at the door to her little office before I knew it. I knocked softly, and I heard her tell me to come in. I realized that I still had tears in my eyes, but I poked my head around the door nonetheless.

Madame Giry was sitting wearily in her armchair, watching her teapot, waiting for the water to boil. She looked up when I came in.

"Christine… Come in, come in. Goodness knows, you've had a rougher night than I. Would you like some tea?"

I nodded, and sat down in the chair that she indicated.

"Raoul… said he was here."

"Yes, he was." she said stiffly; it seemed that she did not like Raoul very much.

"Madame Giry… do you really know him? How?" I asked abruptly, knowing I didn't need to clarify who 'he' was.

Madame Giry looked at me for a long moment.

"Very well. I suppose if I told that nosy Vicomte of yours, I ought to tell you – you have far more concern with the matter. I met the Opera Ghost many years ago… or, rather, saw him. It was at a traveling fair; he was displayed as a freak there. Have you…"

"Yes." I said simply, neither of us wanting to discuss Erik's horrible face, a face that did not hold any terror for me any more.

"But he was a genius, dear child; a composer, a great musician, an architect… a genius! He caught my eye – I was the only one not jeering at him – and the look in his eyes… I pitied him so much when I saw him that first time – as I imagine you did, my dear."

I nodded, remembering the way my fear had simply melted away as he whispered my name – "Oh, Christine…"

"Shortly afterwards, I had heard that he had escaped. They looked for him, but never found him… they presumed him dead. Years passed. Monsieur Garnier began to build this Opera house… there were rumors of a masked man working diligently on the building for the duration of its construction… it seemed that he built himself a place to hide from the world beneath the ground. I came to work here, and he somehow remembered me from that one glimpse so many years ago. I have been his… envoy, if you will, here at the Opera ever since. I pass his messages on to the managers, and do my best to see that they are fulfilled. But lately, it seems, I have fallen behind on my duties…" Madame Giry trailed off into silence, and I hung my head. My poor angel had already endured so much torment in his life… why did I have to add more?

"I knew that he had begun teaching you, Christine, and at first I feared for your safety. In the years I have known him at this Opera house, he has proven to have quite the mercurial temper… but something about you seemed to change him. I have never seen him love anything but his music, Christine."

I burst into tears again. I felt rather silly, crying in front of my stoic ballet mistress, but when I met her eyes at last, I saw that they were very bright as well.

"Madame Giry, I don't know what to do… I've been so foolish…"

"I wish I could help you, Christine, but in these matters, I know as little of him as you do. Just keep your wits about you; you'll need them. I sense that events in the very near future will be even more hectic than usual."

I managed a smile and wiped at my eyes.

"Thank you, Madame Giry. For everything."

She returned my smile just as Meg burst into the door.

"Christine! There you are – I've been looking everywhere for you! What on earth…"

"Not now, Meg." Madame Giry cut in. "We were just about to have some tea. Would you like some?"

Looking extremely confused, Meg nodded and took the teacup from her mother.

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A/N: Do I even need to ask anymore? Honestly, you have no idea how much your simply pushing that little review button and leaving me a quick note makes my day. Makes my couple of days, actually! And if anybody's bored while they're waiting for me to update, I have a little oneshot too, called "Interlude." Well, I hope to hear from you! (Hopefully, good things!)

Kyrie


	10. Twisted Every Way

A/N: Hello! I was bored, so I thought I'd give you another chapter. Thanks to **LonesomeGurlAngelofDeath** for her review. Thanks also to **candybaby92**, **Phantombeliever**,** xSweetxAngelxofxMusic**, and **Cainwen the Warrior** for having me on their favorites. So, on to the chapter. What is Christine going to do now? Well, you'll have to read to find out. **Truth Questor**, I hope this answers some of the Angel vs. Erik questions you had. Enjoy, all!

**Usual Disclaimer**: Not mine: Characters, plot, songs, setting. Mine: Errors, a good deal of fun.

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Chapter 10: Twisted Every Way

I went back to my own flat that night, which I had thoughtfully insisted to Raoul that I keep for the time being. It, like my dressing room, was dusty and obviously disused, but it was still home enough for me. Nearly all of my things were still here, as Raoul had not wasted any time in getting me out of Paris the night the chandelier had come down three months ago. I fell asleep quickly, exhausted by the strange day.

I went back to the Opera the next morning, to ask if I could rejoin the cast, and found that that decision had already been made for me. Erik had assigned me the lead role in his new opera, _Don Juan Triumphant_, and, much to Carlotta's apparent fury, the managers were far too afraid to disobey him in the slightest.

That, however, was not what frightened me. Raoul was there in the managers' office as well, along with Carlotta, Piangi, and Madame Giry, and he had managed to devise an insane plan to capture the Opera Ghost:

"Would you all stop complaining for a moment and listen! This could be the chance to ensnare our clever friend."

"Go on, go on!" André urged.

"If we play his game, perform his opera exactly the way he wants us to…"

"Are you mad?" Firmin and Piangi shouted in unison.

"Hear me out! We happen to hold the ace in this game of cards…" he trailed off dramatically – I wondered for a second whether he should be an actor himself – and pointed, horrifyingly, at me.

"If Miss Daaé sings, as he wants her to, he is certain to attend the event, is he not?"

The managers seemed to have caught on at last.

"We bar the doors!" André cried, sounding almost like a child at Christmas.

"We have the police here in force!" Firmin barked.

"He'll be trapped!"

"Exactly." Raoul said with a curt nod. "And so ends the reign of the Phantom of the Opera."

"This is madness! Complete madness! Messieurs, believe me – there is no way for you to win this game!" Madame Giry shouted, infuriated.

"Enough of your warnings! Help us!"

"I can't…"

I watched in horrified silence as the shouting match unfolded before me. Madame Giry was the only one defending Erik… Raoul's plan was ludicrous, and yet it made sense, which was the real terror in it – it might work. I could not let that happen!

"Stop, all of you, _stop_ it!" I cried, sounding as though I were near tears.

The row was silenced immediately, and once again, all heads turned to look at me.

"I can't do this, Raoul… Please don't make me… I can't, I can't!"

I pleaded with them, made them think that I was afraid. I was afraid, but for Erik, not myself! Only Madame Giry seemed to see through my façade, and I knew she would say nothing.

"Christine, you have said so yourself – he is just a man… but his haunts must be ended! Our every hope rests on you now, Christine."

I longed to cry out, 'No! Don't hurt him! He is _not_ a monster – he is an angel!', but I knew I would get nowhere. They all saw Erik as a menace, a fiend. They did not know any better.

"I can't do it!" I said tearfully, shaking my head. Raoul reached out towards me, but I fled the room.

Oh, Raoul. He tried so hard to do the right thing, he really did. I wished I could make him understand, but I knew I could not. It was for my sake that he wanted to rid the world of Erik. If I pleaded with him, he might think that I had gone mad. The only other time I had spoken of Erik to him had been with fear in my voice; if I was to start defending him now, to speak lovingly of him, even… and I did not want to hurt Raoul as I had hurt Erik.

And so, much to my dismay, rehearsals began. I sang to Erik every day in my dressing room, begging him for forgiveness, but he remained silent. Perhaps he could no longer hear me…

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For the next few weeks, it seemed I existed solely to attend rehearsals. So strange, that to fall back on my old habits made me nearly want to burst into tears on some occasions. I loved Erik's music, and I sang it with all the passion it deserved, but the rest of the cast was far less respectful, far less enthusiastic. It was only to be expected, really – this was not an opera; it was a trap. But only Carlotta dared to blatantly insult it, and I caught Meg and a few others looking up towards the flies, wondering if another backdrop might come crashing down on her to punish her for her sharp tongue. But Erik was mysteriously absent from the proceedings, and my dressing room remained silent, echoing with the memory of his voice, a constant reminder of what I had done, what I had lost.

Raoul was always there, though; presiding over every rehearsal, waiting for me outside my dressing room door, insisting on walking me back to my flat. I was nearly relieved to have his company, actually – he and Meg were the only ones who knew me well enough to not speak about this farce of an opera. On the way home, Raoul would make pleasant comments about the weather, or perhaps joke about the latest Parisian antics he'd read about in _L'Epoque_. I was extremely grateful to him for this temporary distraction; he was such a great friend to me, almost like a brother, and I did love him, but not the way he wanted me to.

Why couldn't life be simple?

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I went to visit my father's grave in Perros-Gueric. I hoped that perhaps I could find some solace close to him, a respite from the blur of insanity that the Opera house had become for me. After all, I had thought once that Erik was my father's spirit, his Angel of Music… perhaps he would guide me.

As I stood beside my father's grave, all the fear and despair that I had fought so hard to conceal from my friends and fellow cast members shoved its way forward at last. I wept unashamedly, for God knows how long, sobbing for my father and an easy answer like the little child that, at heart, I knew I still was.

I was finally beginning to dry my eyes, ready to give my father a silent prayer and then return home, when the ghostly sound of a violin echoed across the graveyard. I raised my head to listen; the music was so beautiful, so perfect, and it was a tune I knew well.

"_The Resurrection of Lazarus_…" I whispered, getting to my feet and looking around.

My father had often played this song when I was younger… But this mysterious violinist played with even more skill than my own father – something I had not thought possible. The air echoed with the plaintive, longing melody, and I walked forward, drawn inexorably towards the sound.

At last, I saw a dark figure standing atop a hill nearby. The moment I spotted him, the violin fell silent; instead, the figure sang to me in a voice insurmountable by a thousand angels…

"Erik!" I breathed, hardly daring to believe it. My voice shook slightly as I sang back to him:

"_Angel_… _oh, speak_… _what endless longings echo in this whisper_…!"

And then we were singing together once again, as I had longed and dreamed of for so long, too long!

"_Angel of Music, my protector! Come to me, strange angel_!" I cried, my voice and spirit soaring together as one, just as Erik had taught me…

"_I am your Angel of Music_… _Come to me, Angel of Music_…" he called, and I moved towards him as though in a trance. Perhaps I was; entranced by overwhelming joy.

But suddenly, there was another voice behind me:

"Let her go, for God's sake, let her go! Christine!"

I turned round to face him exasperatedly. How had he come to be _here_?

"Raoul!" I cried, wishing that he would go back to Paris.

But Raoul misinterpreted my cry as that of distress, and he wrapped me in his arms for a moment, trying to calm what he saw as my hysterics.

"Bravo, monsieur, such spirited words!" Erik shouted mockingly.

Raoul, his face set, released me and stepped between me and Erik. He strode forward threateningly, and I could see that he planned to put a stop to this madness once and for all.

"Raoul!" I shrieked, but he did not hear me over the sudden hissing flare of a blazing fireball that Erik hurled towards my friend.

Oh, God, no!

I leapt forward, tugging at Raoul's arm, trying to pull him away.

"Raoul, come back!" I sobbed. I could not bear his death at Erik's hands; even worse was the thought that he might succeed in harming Erik! I had to get Raoul away from here, to ensure that they would both live to see another day!

As I dragged Raoul back towards the cemetery gate, I heard Erik call after me. I would go back to him, but I had to get Raoul away safely first… I hailed a cab as quickly as I could, glancing over my shoulder to see if my dark angel had followed, but there was no trace of him anywhere. And when the cab pulled up in front of us and I tried to turn back, Raoul refused to let go of me. I tried so hard, but I could not escape his grip. He thought he was rescuing me from the Phantom, not tearing me away from an angel…

It seemed that once again, I had let Erik down.

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A/N: Well, I hope I haven't let you down! Hey, I'll tell you what - we get to thirty-five reviews, and I'll post two chapters at once. Sound good? Good. Please review! (Especially those of you that have me on their favorites and haven't left me a nice little note!) It really makes my day! My week! Thanks muchly. Now, press that there reveiw button! Kyrie


	11. Désastre au delà de L’Imagination

A/N: Thanks muchly to **LonesomeGurlAngelofDeath** for her review. Brownie points to you for being the only one to review chapter 10 so far! Well, here's the chapter you've all been waiting for. I hope I managed to do "Point of No Return" with some manner of skill. That's one of the few songs in PotO I haven't memorized the lyrics to ("Prima Donna" because I don't like it much, "Masquerade" because for some reason all those words just won't stick, and "Point of No Return" because I don't _like_ the words. shudders), so I hope I've done it all right. Also, and please don't kill me, I won't be able to post anything else for a while. I go back to school in just a little over two weeks, and I have to finish my homework. Just keep in mind that though this chapter ends the play, it does not end the story, which will have 25 chapters. Well, enough of my ranting, right? Enjoy! And please review! It makes my day!

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Chapter 11: Désastre au delà de L'Imagination

As the opening night of Erik's opera approached, it got so that I could not bear the sight of a reassuring, pitying smile. It was all anyone could offer me, now – they all thought I had lost my mind completely at last, even Raoul and Meg. I kept away from everyone as much as I could, instead focusing on putting my heart and soul into Erik's music. The latter was not difficult at all.

The events of the cemetery at Perros haunted me. In my dreams, I heard Erik's anguished cry as I fled once again with Raoul… I saw him standing alone on the hill, silent, abandoned, a fallen angel. How often I called to him, yet he could not hear me…!

At last, the opening night was upon us. While the rest of the cast grumbled, feeling as though they were about to be publicly humiliated by being forced to perform Erik's highly contemporary opera, I could not stop shaking. I was so afraid that Raoul's plan might actually succeed, and the Angel of Music would be silenced forever… and I would play the pivotal role in causing his demise! I thought momentarily about refusing to go through with it, but it was too late. We were all costumed, waiting backstage, and the overture was beginning.

I could tell that Erik's slightly dissonant score was causing raised eyebrows in the audience. I heard a great many people coughing and consulting their programs, attempting to distract themselves from the overture. It was a short one, however, and the curtain soon rose.

_The trap is set and waits for its prey_…

At last, I awaited my cue.

"This is for you, Erik, if you can still hear me. I'm sorry…"

And with that whispered prayer, I stepped out onto the stage.

"_No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy… no dreams within her heart but dreams of love…!_" I sang, allowing the last note to quiver and fade.

Then, from the other side of the stage, "Don Juan" entered. Piangi wore a long black cloak in this scene, with the hood covering his face. I prepared to push my acting skills to their limit once again, but when Piangi began to sing, it was an entirely different sound that met my ears.

Had I gone mad, then?

I could have sworn that the Don Juan that sang to me now was Erik himself… but that was impossible. I had hoped, dreamed of seeing him again so many times that I was imagining his voice… Whatever had happened, the scene suddenly became much easier to act. The passion the song required me to project had been so difficult with Piangi, but if I imagined that I was performing with Erik… By the time I opened my mouth to sing my part of the song, I had completely abandoned myself to the fantasy created for me by Erik's heavenly voice…

"Don Juan" pulled me tightly into his arms, taking an enormous amount of license with his hands as I leaned back against him.

"_Past the point of no return… The final threshold! The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn…_"

I reached out my hand and touched "Don Juan's" face, and I suddenly stiffened; my voice faltered. I was sure that I'd felt the hard surface of Erik's mask beneath my fingers! Was it really Erik? Had I not been dreaming…? I had to know… I had to see him again!

As the song ended, I pulled the hood off the man in front of me, and there was Erik! Silence rang throughout the theater; silence except for a few gasps from the ballet girls backstage.

Erik gently took my hand, singing softly. I stared up at him in wonder, a smile on my face. I suddenly felt the urge to see his _face_ again, to show him – to show everyone! – that I was not afraid, that there was no reason to be afraid… And so I reached up and pulled his mask away…

It was a mistake. Someone screamed – I could not tell if it was someone in the wings or from the audience… All I could see was the look in Erik's eyes… I knew that he thought I had betrayed him… _No_… _no!_ _I hadn't meant_…

Suddenly, he pulled me roughly into his viselike grip and the world spun and turned to blackness… I don't know how, but we had arrived in one of the tunnels beneath the Opera house, and I could hear the lake again. Erik did not say a word until we reached the house by the lake. There, he took me ruthlessly by the shoulders and pinned me against the wall.

"_Damn_, Christine! _Why_? _Why_ did you do that? I risked everything to come to you tonight, and this is how you thank me…? You had to show _everyone_ Erik's ugly face, didn't you? God damn it, Christine, why do you think I hide here underground, taking on the guise of a ghost? It's because of _this_!" He gestured violently to his horrible face, and I admit that I was afraid – but of his fury, not his deformity. "I have been met with hatred everywhere I go! Never a kind word, never compassion for Erik, oh no! Until you…"

Erik trailed off, and my heart nearly broke. I knew what he had begun to say – I was the only one who had ever treated him like a human instead of a beast…

I tried to apologize for my mistakes, my stupidity, but I found that all I could do was sob. Erik thrust me away from him; once again, I found myself on the floor in his house, crying.

"Erik, I…"

But Erik cut me off, not with words, but a sudden jerk of his head, like a cat flicking its ear upwards to catch a distant sound… He grinned, and I tried to shrink into myself. I did not like that grin, nor the look in his eye… It was these things, I saw, that had earned him the name of 'Phantom.'

"Wait… I think we have guest, my dear. Silly Christine, you must change…"

"What?" I stammered.

Erik grabbed my arm and led me into the room that seemed to be mine – I recognized it from the last time I had been here… the only other time I had come. Draped over the back of a chair was a beautiful wedding gown…

"I wanted you to come to me of your own volition, but it seemed that that was not to be… You ran from me, just as everyone else did… But you will never run from me again, Christine, that I swear to you!"

I looked from the wedding dress to Erik's face and back again. I knew what he meant; I knew that he would kill to keep me… He was a murderer! Why, then, did my heart go out to him?

I looked up at him, tears in my eyes, and met his gaze softly.

"Erik, I…"

But he misinterpreted my demeanor and shouted once again.

"It's too late for pity, Christine! Too late for your prayers, your cries for help! You are mine!"

And with that he turned on his heel and vanished, very much like the Ghost the others thought him to be… Without really thinking, I did as I was told; I exchanged my _Don Juan _costume for the wedding dress and hurried out of the room to find Erik again… perhaps I would at last have some sense, at last be able to tell him that he didn't have to force me…

When I finally found Erik again, it did seem that we had a guest.

"Raoul!" I cried when I saw him.

My dear friend had walked right into Erik's trap… The irony of the situation might have even been slightly amusing had it not been so dire… The Punjab lasso was wrapped tightly around Raoul's neck, and I knew that he was in grave danger…

"I have a rather interesting proposition for you, my dear Christine. I present you with two choices; you could either stay here, with me, as my… as my wife, or you could refuse me and your lover loses his life. If you stay here, his life will be spared; you have my word."

I knew that Erik was not lying; he looked at me in a sort of manic fury. Had I been wrong in believing him to be kind and gentle?

"For pity's sake, Christine, say no! Don't throw your life away for my sake!" Raoul choked.

I didn't realize that I had tears streaming down my face again. I could not think; my mind was clouded over with panic… Why did Erik think he had to threaten me? Perhaps if he had asked me another time, in another way, my answer would have been 'Yes,' but now I was afraid that I had not seen the real Erik… that he truly was a monster and not the Angel I thought he was…

I looked long and hard at him, and I suddenly saw that this new vehemence was just another mask… in his eyes, I saw fear, pain, desperation… loss… I closed my eyes and looked away, unable to take that look, that dread, that hurt…

"You are trying my patience, girl! Make your choice!" Erik roared, but I had already seen through his angry façade. I knew that this was not the true Erik that stood before us.

"Oh, Erik, what has your life been like?" I whispered, loud enough only for him to hear. "I… I promise you, you are not alone…"

Erik blinked at me as I stepped towards him and put my hand tenderly on his distorted flesh. I smiled for a moment, then I drew his face down to mine and kissed him.

I knew that I loved Erik, but was in no way prepared for the feeling that hit me so hard the moment I kissed him. I remembered what he sang to me when I had been here with him before: _Floating, falling, sweet intoxication… Touch me, trust me, savour each sensation…_ I put my arms around his neck and held him tightly to me, feeling as though I might collapse from dizziness if I did not…

Erik seemed to be just as shocked as I was. For a long moment, he was unable to react, but then he returned both my embrace and my kiss with such intensity as to be almost alarming… but it wasn't alarming at all… it was wonderful!

At last, after what seemed an eternity, Erik pulled away and held me at arm's length. His dark eyes found mine, and I wanted to fall back into his arms and never leave…

But suddenly, he looked away, his expression strangely unreadable. I stared at him, trying to figure it out… But he moved away and untied Raoul.

"Go. Go, both of you. Now, get out of here…"

"What?" Raoul and I both said. I thought that I had to stay…

In the distance, an angry shout resonated menacingly off the cold stone of Erik's underground world. It seemed that he had been discovered at last.

"Take her and go, boy, get out of here! Get out before _they_ get here… Take the boat, leave me."

Raoul stepped forward, mildly stunned, and wrapped his arm around me. I didn't look at him.

"Erik…" I whispered.

Erik turned to look straight at me and shouted horribly at us.

"Go _now_!_ Go now and leave me!_"

Raoul pulled me quickly away, towards Erik's little boat. The sounds of an approaching mob were growing louder with each passing second… _Please, God, don't let them find him! Don't let them hurt him! _

As Raoul pushed away from the edge of the lake, I looked back towards Erik's home. I couldn't see him, but it wasn't long before I heard him, his anguished cry for the second time… he knew that he would never see me again… The sound tore my heart in two; silent tears streamed down my face.

"Raoul, I have to go back…"

"Christine, you can't! He let you go; I intend to get you far away from this blasted opera house. There's nothing you can do to help him – he's a murderer, Christine. Clearly, he wants you safe from those men chasing him. I'm getting you out of here, now."

"But Raoul, I…"

"Anything you may have left behind, I can replace. It's all right, Christine – you're free. Finally free."

Raoul didn't know that I could never replace what I had left behind. Never.


	12. Songs in My Head

A/N: Ha ha, I'm back! And finished with that gods-acursed homework! (Yes, I know, bad me, I added an 's.' I just find it more fun to say that way.) Anyhoo... here's "the good part, where ALW and I part company" as HDKingsbury said. Oh yeah - thanks to **HDKingsbury**, **LonesomeGurlAngelofDeath**, and **Truth Questor **for their reviews! Sorry you're not liking the plot twist, Truth Questor, but this _is _an E/C and I _did_ warn you. Right. So, since this is where I do part company with the lovely hand-rail that is the ALW play, I'd like to thank everybody who said they liked my style. It's taken nearly four years to get it this way! Also, thanks to those who said they liked my reworked, prose-y lyrics. Unfortunately, that isn't going to work quite as well anymore. For one thing, the songs I'm using are no longer from _Phantom_ - at least the majority aren't. So I needed the real lyrics. For another, it's all Erik-Christine interactions now, so I thought it more appropriate for them to actually be singing. So, apologies in advance if it slows anything down. I've shortened the songs as much as possible. The one in this chapter is rather long... hopefully, you'll see why. I've also tried not to make Raoul too much the bad guy - I kind of pity him more than hate him. He never did anything really wrong, did he? Well, anyway... Enjoy!

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Chapter 12: Songs in My Head

Raoul took me back to his family's estate, expressly forbidding me ever to return to 'that Opera house.' I argued with him, but not very hard, admittedly. I didn't have the strength to fight with him. I knew he had my best interests at heart… but did he know what my best interests were anymore? Did I?

He also wanted to begin planning our wedding immediately, but I managed to persuade him to wait. We had barely been engaged for a month; if we married too hastily, I reasoned, people would have just one more reason to look down on us.

I knew that society would frown heavily at me. I was a chorus girl, a ballet dancer, a singer, engaged to a Vicomte. People of my profession were never assumed to be the most virtuous on earth, often rightfully so. But I wasn't like that, and I hated to think of all the harsh stares I would generate, and how I would hurt Raoul's reputation… The thought of bringing my dear friend down was awful.

I couldn't sleep anymore. My dreams were haunted by Erik, by my betrayal. I knew I should never have left, but it was too late now… I heard him calling me night after night, and every time it reduced me to hysterical tears. Raoul thought I was having nightmares about what happened; essentially I was, but my nightmares and the ones Raoul imagined I was having were quite different.

One afternoon, about a week or so after we had 'escaped' from Paris, I could not stand staying indoors any longer. I wrote a note to Raoul and left it on my pillow, telling him that I'd gone out into the garden and wanted to be alone for awhile. I then grabbed my soft blue cloak off the back of the chair by the fire and pulled it around my shoulders, walking out into the snowy afternoon.

It was the beginning of February now, and several inches of fluffy white snow coated the gardens. The paths had been swept clear, however, and I walked along these, allowing my feet to simply move without my thinking about it. My time as a dancer had served me well, as I had acquired the natural grace and strength that comes with pointe work.

How I missed the Opera! I had been gone only slightly more that a week, and already I missed it. I remembered the three months I had spent sheltered here before, how long it had taken for me to want my old life back. But something in me had changed when Erik sent me away. The last time I had been here, I had been happy on many an occasion, but now… Now I missed my Angel, I missed my friends…

Unconsciously, I began to sing quietly to myself. Raoul had not forbidden that, at least…

"_Father once spoke of an Angel_

_I used to dream he'd appear…_

_Now as I sing, I can sense him – _

_And I know he's here!_"

But he wasn't there, wasn't there at all. Just as suddenly as it had begun, my voice died away, and I suppressed a small sob…

_Sing something else, Christine. It'll cheer you up,_ I thought. Yes, perhaps it would.

"_When I was a girl, I had a favorite story_

_Of the Meadowlark who lived where the rivers wind._

_Her voice could match the angels' in its glory,_

_But she was blind… the lark was blind…_

_An old king came and took her to his palace,_

_Where the walls were burnished bronze and golden braid,_

_And he fed her fruit and nuts from an ivory chalice,_

_And he prayed:_

'_Sing for me, my meadowlark!_

_Sing for me of the silver morning._

_Set me free, my meadowlark!_

_And I'll buy you a priceless jewel,_

_And cloth of brocade and crewel,_

_And I'll love you for life if you will_

_Sing for me_.'"

But I was not like the meadowlark, I realized. Instead of staying with the one who truly needed me and suffering, I had run away… I had run from Erik countless times… It made me sick to think how often I had turned away from him when he needed me. But it was too late, too late to turn back, and how I regretted it! I knew that I would hate myself for that choice as long as I lived…

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_I was back in Perros, at my father's grave; I heard the ghostly violin again. I looked up, and there was Erik, calling to me:_

_"Wandering child, so lost, so helpless, yearning for my guidance…"_

_I walked towards him… I would_ not_ leave him this time…_

_But just as I reached out to him, just as I was about to throw my arms around him and swear to him that I would never again let go, he vanished… he was gone…_

"NO!" I screamed, sitting bolt upright in bed. I had had dreams similar to this every night for the past two weeks… I closed my eyes against the tears for the thousandth time…

"Christine?"

I looked up to see Raoul standing at my door, pulling on a bathrobe.

"May I… come in?"

"Y-yes." I said, swinging my legs out of my bed and slipping my arms into the sleeves of my dressing gown.

"Christine, what's wrong? You've been so upset ever since we came here. I hear you wake up crying nearly every night, and you won't tell me why… Please, Christine, I want to help you. Tell me what's wrong."

I could not bring myself to look at him.

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want to hurt you…"

"What?"

"Raoul… I have to go back. I have to go back to Paris; I can't stand it anymore!" At last, a decision! My decision-making skills had been so lacking recently… perhaps I was finally making the right one.

"What! Christine, you can't go back there! _He_ might still be there…"

"That's exactly why I do have to go back, Raoul." I cut in quietly.

He stared at me in silence for a long, awkward moment.

"Christine… his opera… I'd never seen you perform it like that before… At first I thought it was just because it was the performance and not a rehearsal… but that wasn't it, was it?"

I shook my head sadly. Why did I have to do this to him?

"I thought I heard Erik's voice singing to me… I didn't know it was really him, but I hoped so much that it was…"

I looked up at Raoul at last.

"Raoul, I'm so sorry… You are like a brother to me, and you'll always be one of my greatest friends, but…"

"But you love him."

"Yes."

Raoul sighed heavily, sank down onto the edge of my bed, and covered his face with his hand. I had tried so hard to tell him without hurting him… but it seemed I was incapable of doing anything without causing someone pain.

"I love you too much to force you into anything, Christine. If… if it's what you want, then I release you from our engagement." he whispered.

I wanted to thank him countless times… I wanted to cry, I wanted to say 'No, that's not what I want,' just to keep from hurting someone else… But my Angel of Music still sang his songs in my head, and I knew I would never be truly free of him. I didn't want to be.

"You deserve someone who truly loves you, Raoul, not as a friend. I wish I could, I wish I didn't have to do this to you… Oh, Raoul, I'm so sorry… I never meant you any harm…"

I turned away, crying silently. But I knew that I was doing the right thing.

"No… I'm glad you had the strength to tell me… I would never want you to be unhappy. If you ever need anything, you'll know where to find me. I love you, Christine."

I threw my arms around his neck, sobbing "Thank you" and "I'm sorry" over and over again into his shoulder.

"Go back to sleep, Christine; I'll take you back to Paris in the morning."

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The song I used in this chapter was the song _Meadowlark_ from a musical called _The Baker's Wife_, music and lyrics by Stephen Schwartz. (Yes, the same guy who did _Wicked_.) The reason that I had to put in so much of the song (and that's cut a lot - it's over five minutes long!) is because it tells a story; "of the meadowlark who lived where the rivers wind." For those of you not familiar with the song and therefore wondering what the comparison I made is, here goes: It's the story of a blind meadowlark who is taken in by an old king who loves her singing. One day, however, the sun god hears her song, "and her singing moved him so he came and brought her the gift of sight." He asks the meadowlark to come with him, but she refuses, because she knows how much the old king loves her and doesn't want to hurt him. When the king comes down to see her later, however, the meadowlark had died. If you still don't quite understand, tell me so and I'll send you the full lyrics, along with a brief overview of the play (which I've never seen so I don't know how much that'll help. All I know is, "Meadowlark" is a beautiful song and it was my solo for a class I did once.)

Right, well, I hoped you liked it! It was a bit tricky for me - you might have guessed. Tell me what you think - click that little blue button there! Thanks muchly! -Kyrie


	13. The Truth of the Matter

A/N: Since we reached 35 reviews with chapter eleven, here, as promised, is another chapter. Hey, I'll do another double update if we can get 45. Sound good? It does to me! Well, here's one of the few chapters that doesn't have a song in it. Also one of the few chapter titles I came up with on my own... So far, I have two others, and one is only one word, so it hardly counts. I know I have one other one later on, anyway. Right, enough of my babble! Enjoy the chapter! Please, PLEASE review! It makes my day, week, whatever!

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Chapter 13: The Truth of the Matter

A few days later, I found myself looking once again at the grand Opera Garnier in Paris. I stepped through the doors, feeling as though I were floating rather than walking. I could not help smiling at the sight of the place, a sight that was made far more welcoming by an ad I had seen in_ L'Epoque_ – the managers were desperate to replace singers.

I walked up to the managers' office and tapped lightly on the door.

"Come in." I heard André sigh from inside.

I pushed the door open, and before they even saw me, Firmin began speaking.

"Look, if you want to leave, just go and _do_ it… Oh! Miss Daaé!"

"Messieurs." I said politely, smiling.

"Forgive me, Mademoiselle; I thought you were another one of our employees running off from this 'haunted opera house.'"

"It's quite all right. Actually, I was hoping that I might be able to do the opposite… I saw your ad in the paper, and I…"

"You wanted to come _back_!" André cried excitedly.

"Yes, exactly." I said, both my grin and my curiosity growing.

The managers were beside themselves with relief – at last they had a principal cast member! I was signed on with barely any questions asked – that question was mine, anyway:

"Messieurs… could I… would it be possible for me to have my old dressing room?" I asked tentatively.

"Why, of course, Miss, if you want it. No one else will take it; supposedly, it's the most haunted place in this whole blasted building."

I smiled, thanked them, and excused myself. I wandered down the familiar hallways and corridors, smiling at the thought of being back home, in Paris, in this Opera house, surrounded by music and the people I most cared for…

"Christine?" a voice from behind me asked incredulously.

I turned to find Meg staring at me.

"Meg! Meg, I'm so glad to see you again!" I cried, running forward and giving the girl who was practically my sister a hug. "I've missed you so much!"

"I've missed you too, Christine, but why are you back here? I would have thought…"

I sighed.

"Come to my dressing room, Meg. You deserve to know the truth of the matter now."

"_Your_ dressing room? But Christine, you haven't come back to the cast, have you? What about Raoul?"

"We broke our engagement, Meg." I said quietly, taking her hand and pulling her towards my dressing room.

"WHAT?" Meg cried. "But Christine, why on earth…"

I opened the door to my wonderful old dressing room and sat down facing Meg, who folded gracefully down onto the floor.

"Meg, do you remember when I told you about my teacher? My Angel of Music?"

"Yes… he was the Phantom."

"Before I told you who he was, he'd been coaching me here in this room every night for almost three months. You heard his voice yourself, Meg… oh, it was the most wonderful thing I'd ever heard! He was so kind, so gentle with me, and I never once questioned anything he did. I thought he was my father, for a while…

"But then, that night I filled in for Carlotta, he finally showed himself to me, he took me to his home beneath the Opera… and I found out that he was just a man. Not an Angel, not a Phantom, just Erik."

"Erik?"

"That's his name. I didn't believe him, then. I didn't believe that he wasn't an angel... He sang to me… I don't really remember what happened… it was all so overwhelming… but I know I must have fainted, somehow, because when I woke up, he wasn't there. I went to find him, and I remembered what you'd told me about his mask… I saw his face…"

"Oh, Christine, you did? We all saw it that night on stage… little Jammes says she still wakes up screaming…"

"She shouldn't!" I snapped angrily, ready to defend my Angel at last. "Erik's face is just another mask, Meg, a mask hiding what a truly wonderful person he really is…"

"How can you say that, Christine? He's a murderer! He kidnapped you! Twice!"

"No! He never hurt me; he never will! The night of my performance, I went willingly! And that second time… had circumstances been different… had he asked me… I would have gone with him! Because I chose to!"

Meg stared open-mouthed at me, perhaps wondering if I had truly gone mad at last. Perhaps that was a logical explanation…

"Raoul and I didn't 'escape' either. He let us go. He didn't want that mob to find me… He's not a monster, Meg. He's a man. A man who has been denied anything and everything because of his face. I had to come back, Meg, I have to see him again. My teacher, my angel…"

"Christine… Christine, he's… he's gone…"

"What?"

"He's gone. The mob destroyed most of his home…"

"You were there? But why?"

"I showed them the way… I'm sorry, Christine, I didn't know. All I thought of was that he'd killed Buquet and Piangi… And I didn't want you to get hurt…"

"Meg, is he all right? Is Erik all right?" I asked frantically.

"I don't know, Christine. They didn't find him. He was gone, but…"

"But what?" I choked, afraid to know the answer.

"Follow me, Christine."

She took my hand and we ran through the Opera house. I paid no attention to where we were going; my thoughts were focused on Erik. _Please, God, let him be all right_…

She opened the door to her mother's office, but Madame Giry was not there. I noticed immediately why Meg had brought me, however. Lying on Madame Giry's small desk was a white mask… Erik's mask… it was broken into pieces.

"No… _Mon Dieu_, no!" I whispered.

Meg was watching me silently as I began to tremble. I closed my eyes; I couldn't bear to look at that mask, to think about what might have befallen him…

"Meg, why are you in here without my…" Madame Giry said sharply as she opened the door, but she stopped when she saw me. I was trying so hard not to cry…

"So, you have come back, then? I thought you might." she said softly.

I nodded, my eyes still shut.

"Christine…" Meg said tentatively. "You never told me what happened down there that… that second time."

"Meg…" Madame Giry scolded, although with far less than her usual enthusiasm.

"No… no, it's all right. He took me down there… he was so angry… I'd been so stupid… He told me that… that I was the only one who had ever really treated like a human being, who'd ever given him a real chance… But then Raoul came to rescue me… Erik trapped Raoul; he threatened to kill him if I didn't stay there with him… He didn't… didn't need to threaten me… I… I kissed him… I said I would stay… But he let us go… Both of us… he told us to go… I knew I shouldn't have, I knew I was making another mistake… And now he's gone…

"I never told him what he meant to _me_… and now I haven't even said goodbye…"

I covered my face with my hands, shuddering with suppressed tears. I had not looked at either of them as I spoke. For a long moment, I stood there alone, very alone, as the treacherous tears finally escaped my control. But then I felt Meg's arm around my shoulders, heard Madame Giry's voice from nearby.

"I'm so sorry, my dear, so very sorry…"


	14. A Journey in the Dark

A/N: Hello again! I've just realized that I forgot to thank **candybaby92** for her review of chapter eleven... whoops! Well, thanks a lot! Thanks also to **LonesomeGurlAngelofDeath** and **HDKingsbury** for their faithful reviews! Keep it up, guys!

Yes, Lord of the Rings fans, I did borrow the title from the scene in Moria. It's the first of several - what can I say? They have good song titles!

This chapter was a little tricky, because obviously Christine is upset, but I _hate_ over-angsty stuff, so I've tried to tone it down a bit. Hope it worked out!

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Chapter 14: A Journey in the Dark

It wasn't long after my return to the Opera house that the managers had finally assembled a cast. They decided to reopen with an old favorite - Gounod's _Faust_. I was offered the part of Marguerite, the female lead.

At first, I wanted to refuse. Erik was gone. What did it matter? But I had lost my voice once already, when my father passed away. Erik had helped me to find it again, and I knew that I had to continue in order to properly honor them both. I didn't even know if Erik truly was… dead. And so I accepted the part.

All the same, the horrifying sight of Erik's broken mask added itself to my nightmares. I had betrayed him, I had run from him… was he now dead because of me?

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The first day of rehearsal came far too quickly for my liking. I was so worried about Erik… I walked into the wings without any trouble, but when I reached the edge of the stage, I found that my feet refused to continue. These worn wooden boards brought so many memories of Erik into clear, painful focus… the last time I had been here, Erik had been performing with me, a performance that required no acting from either of us, really. The thought that I might never see him again, never hear his voice again…

"Christine, are you all right?" Meg said from behind me, putting her hand on my shoulder.

I shook my head, unable to lie.

"No, Meg… I'm not sure I can do this without him… I don't mean to make a fuss over it, Meg, really I don't, but I… I loved him, Meg. I still do."

Meg looked rather surprised to hear me say it aloud at last, but she squeezed my shoulder and gave me a sympathetic smile.

"Come on, Christine, rehearsal will make you feel better."

It did, a bit. Although I found myself looking over to Box Five as often as I could, praying that I would see him, knowing I would not. But I knew that the rest of the cast could tell that there was something wrong – as I left rehearsal that day, every face I met looked puzzled. I had not been myself, and I knew it. I chastised myself for my weakness. Erik would not let me act this way! I resolved to try and cheer myself up, if only for everyone else.

It didn't work very well. My voice betrayed me every time I opened my mouth to sing. There was a lingering sadness there, and as hard as I tried, I could not cover it up.

Rehearsals were helping, thought. My nightmares came less often when I went to bed exhausted from a hard day's practice. Meg and I chatted as often as we could. My friend had not lost her ability to spin a story!

"And then, wouldn't you know it, that cow Jammes trips over her own toe shoe ribbon and falls right on top of poor Sorelli! Who, of course, did not take it well _at all_. You should have heard Jammes shrieking as Sorelli chased her around the stage…!"

We both broke into peals of laughter. It was wonderful to have Meg back again, at least!

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One evening, I took my libretto back to my dressing room and began memorizing Act III over a cup of tea. It had been raining lightly that afternoon, but when I'd realized that it was nearly ten o'clock, the rain had become a torrential downpour, and there was not a hansom in sight. I went back to my dressing room with the intention of studying my lines again until it let up enough for me to walk home. I hummed the score softly to myself, sleepily staring down at the same page of the libretto for nearly fifteen minutes. I rubbed my eyes vigorously, trying to wake myself up. I could go home – the walk in the rain would certainly rouse me. Along with giving me a vicious chest cold, no doubt…

I put my head down on my dressing table, firmly telling myself that it was only for a moment…

_I heard my Angel's voice in my dreams that night. _

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The fact that I did not know for sure whether my angel was alive or dead nearly drove me to insanity. Finally, I could not stand it any longer. I knew how to reach his house on the lake; I would go and see for myself at last.

I went into my dressing room after rehearsal one Friday evening and closed the door. I thought about bolting it, but decided against it. No one knew where I was going…

I wrote a quick note to Meg and Madame Giry and left it on my dressing table:

_My dear Girys,_

_I have gone to find Erik. I must know for sure whether he truly is gone. _(My hand shook slightly as I wrote that last word.)

_Christine_

Satisfied now that at least they would not panic over my disappearance, I went to stand in front of my full-length mirror. My brow furrowed; this was the one flaw in my plan. Once in the tunnels, I was confident that I could find the lake again, but I hadn't the faintest idea of how to work the mechanism that made the mirror swing outwards. Deciding to start at the simplest of methods, I grabbed the frame and pulled…

And the mirror easily swung open. Shocked, I inspected the place where I had pulled at the mirror. By an extraordinary stroke of luck, I had taken hold of the small, nearly invisible catch on the mirror-door.

I picked up the lantern I'd borrowed from the prop rooms and lit it, then stepped through the mirror and into the tunnels, shutting the mirror behind me. It was like moving from one world to another – from the world of daylight and reality to Erik's world of darkness and illusion.

The tunnels seemed even blacker than they had before… perhaps because I was alone. I closed my eyes, thought of my beloved Angel, and began to sing…

"_In sleep he sang to me,_

_In dreams he came…_

_That voice which calls to me,_

_And speaks my name…_"

I let my voice guide me through the darkness until I heard the water lapping against the dock. The boat and pole were exactly where Raoul and I had left them weeks before. I took the pole in one hand and put my lantern down into the boat with the other. The boat wobbled disconcertingly when I stepped into it, and I prayed that I would be able to reach his house alone. It seemed that both Raoul and Erik had made powering the little craft look so much easier than it really was. It rocked dangerously more than once…

The silence of the dark underground lake pressed in on me from all directions, frightening me more than I dared to acknowledge. The place echoed with a strange emptiness, and my worries were forced to the surface once again. What if Erik really was dead? What would I find in his home if he wasn't there? What would I do?

The pole stuck. I tugged hard on it, but it was somehow stuck fast at the bottom and wouldn't budge. I looked towards the other side of the lake and sighed – Erik's house was so close! I gave the pole another hard jerk… It came loose, but I nearly fell out of the boat. Flailing my arms wildly, I tried desperately to regain my balance… and dropped the pole in the meantime.

I dropped to the bottom of the boat, gripping the sides for dear life. I stayed there for several minutes as the rocking subsided, thanking God that it hadn't overturned. Cautiously, I looked over the side to see where the pole had got to. It was floating a good three feet away.

"Curses." I muttered.

Tentatively, I reached out of the boat towards the pole. Just when I almost had it, it slipped further away tauntingly. I reached precariously out towards it…

And was pitched into the frigid lake. I managed to keep my head above the water, but I knew it wouldn't be for long – I couldn't swim! My long dress soaked through very quickly and acted like an anchor pulling me down, away from the air… I floundered helplessly, trying desperately to stay afloat… Was Erik there? Could he hear me? It was my only chance…

"Erik!" I cried as loudly as I could. "Erik! Help! ERIK!"

The water closed over my head. I struggled madly to break the surface, to breathe… probably wasting what seemed to be my last gulp of air…

I fell into blackness.

------------

I groaned and opened my eyes. It seemed very bright after the darkness of the tunnels and the lake… Was this Heaven, then?

Yes, yes, it had to be! Because there was my Angel, my Erik, kneeling beside me. I smiled softly and reached out towards him, my fingers brushing against the unmasked side of his face. He was real!

"Erik… I thought you were… were dead…" I whispered hoarsely.

"Hush, Christine, lie still. I'm here; nothing can harm you. Rest now, _mon ange_ – you're safe now."

My smile widened a little and I closed my eyes again, lowering my hand. I fell asleep again with my fingers tight around Erik's.

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A/N: I know, I know. This is where I finally gave in to my worst temptation - the hooray-let's-beat-up-the-heroine one. And also because that's exactly what I would have done in a boat like that. Except I can swim. Please review, because I can't wait to post the next chapter, and the more reviews I get, the faster I post! Thanks for reading! -Kyrie


	15. Le Fantôme

A/N: I know I said I'd post this tomorrow, but I have nothing better to do and besides, I doubt you're complaining! Thanks to Lair Lover for his review, and also to **LonesomeGurlAngelofDeath **and **HDKingsbury **for being so amazingly faithful about theirs! This chappie's for you, guys.

I hope you like it. I know it's probably a little... unorthodox to change perspective this far along, but as I was first writing this a few weeks ago, I was getting really fed up with both the first person and not being able to put in Erik's thoughts, because I actually had some good ones. Hence this chapter. My friend Christine (whose last name, coincidentally, begins with a D. If you ever want to annoy her, just sing her name at her like Meg does in "Angel of Music." It's fun.) who has been a sort of beta and muse in one, liked it so much that she demanded I put another Erik chapter in later. So I did. So, if you will, kindly drift back to the end of chapter eleven and let's see what Erik was thinking...

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Chapter 15: Le Fantôme

Erik watched her beautiful blue eyes fill with tears as the young Vicomte pulled her away. It was for the best… he knew it was for the best… Why, then, did he feel as though he were being torn apart?

"_You alone can make my song take flight_…" he cried brokenly.

Never again. He would never see his sweet Christine again. That seraphic voice, those beautiful brown curls, those sapphire eyes, that smile… never again.

It was better this way, he told himself. Better that she be free of Erik forever, free to live life in the daylight, rather than be chained to a monster…

So long… he had lived in a dream for so long… For months as he had taught Christine from behind her mirror, watched as she had grown to trust him… and then she had torn off his mask, had betrayed him to that _boy_… he had been so sure he'd lost her.

But that night… that night, on the stage… the way she had responded to his voice, to his touch… And she had chosen to stay with him… she had kissed him!

No, he could not do that to her. He could not force Christine to stay here in this hellish life he was condemned to. She deserved to walk freely in the light of day… and so he had let her go.

The mob sounded as though it was nearly upon him. Clinging to the final, shattered remains of his pride, he stepped into the shadows and vanished. _No one captures Le Fantôme!_

Deprived of their real victim, the furious Opera patrons extracted their revenge instead on Erik's innocent possessions. Erik closed his eyes and clenched his teeth as he heard the sounds of ripping paper – they had found the symphony he was toying with, then. He offered a silent prayer to whatever god might be real enough or good enough to listen to him, demon as he was, that they would not find Christine's room, and that they would not destroy his instruments… his music was all he had left.

The destruction lasted for what seemed an eternity. Finally the noise ceased, and Erik dared to venture forth. He cursed loudly – that blasted mob had smashed anything they could get their hands on! At least they hadn't gotten to him this time – he'd suffered more than enough at the hands of humanity.

Christine's room… had they found it?

It seemed that at least one person had, but the room was nearly untouched. The only things that betrayed their presence was that the door – which Christ… which had been shut tightly before – was slightly ajar, and something had been knocked over. He was not sure why he was so glad that her room, at least, remained intact. She would not be coming back… Perhaps it was the silent reminder that she had once been there, had once cared…

His foot crunched on broken glass, and he saw exactly what it had been that had fallen to the floor – a vase of dark red roses. These had been her favorites… He picked up one of the delicate blossoms and held it close to his ravaged face.

"Christine… I love you…" he whispered, wishing he had let the mob find him. Death, he reasoned, would be better than this.

---------------

He began listlessly to repair the damage to his home. There wasn't really any point to it – it was just something to do. In the process, he found his spare mask. That, at least, was good – someone had taken his other one. After meticulously cleaning up the glass from the broken vase in her room, he saw to his furniture and instruments. His prayers in their name had proved completely useless. The violin he'd played for her at Perros was beyond repair, but his organ and piano might prove salvageable. The wainscoting and a carpet or two were also in need of replacing.

For weeks, he completely occupied himself with the repairs. It helped him to keep his mind off her… Each time he allowed himself to think about the night she'd left, he wished more and more that he had let the mob find him, kill him. His house echoed painfully in her absence. He hadn't fully realized just how essential she had become to him, just how much he needed her… and now it was too late. The fact that for one glorious moment he had held her in his arms, that she had kissed him, was almost too much for him to bear. Because she was gone, now. Gone, and she would not be coming back.

_There's no sunshine when she's gone…_

_It's not warm when she's away…_

No. No, he couldn't let himself think about that. She would be happy with the Vicomte. That was why he'd let her go. He had done it for her sake. What did he matter? Nothing. But she deserved to be happy, to be free, to _live_…

He went back to reconstructing his organ in mournful silence.

-----------------

Erik was in the process of unrolling a new rug he'd 'borrowed' from the props department when a sound he'd never expected to hear again drifted through the channels up to the Opera house:

"Meg, do you remember when I told you about my teacher? My Angel of Music?"

It was her! She had come back! But why? What was she doing back at the Opera? She was supposed to be far away and free, with that handsome young Vicomte… why had she returned?

In his shock, he missed part of their conversation.

"You heard his voice yourself, Meg… oh, it was the most wonderful thing I'd ever heard! He was so kind, so gentle with me, and I never once questioned anything he did."

"Oh, dear child…" Erik whispered.

"But then, that night I filled in for Carlotta, he finally showed himself to me, he took me to his home beneath the Opera… and I found out that he was just a man. Not an Angel, not a Phantom, just Erik."

Oh, why had he lied to her? _Why_?

"Erik?"

"That's his name. I didn't believe that he wasn't an angel… He sang to me… I don't really remember what happened… it was all so overwhelming… but I know I must have fainted, somehow, because when I woke up, he wasn't there. I went to find him, and I remembered what you'd told me about his mask… I saw his face…"

So, she was still afraid of him, then. She did think he was a monster, a beast. Suddenly angry, Erik grabbed his hat and cloak, only catching Meg's reply:

"Oh, Christine, you did? We all saw it that night on stage… little Jammes says she still wakes up screaming…"

He slammed the door and nearly flew through the tunnels leading up to the Rue Scribe, forgetting that it was daylight in aboveground Paris. Fortunately, he remembered just as he reached for the door handle.

"_Zut alors_." he cursed quietly.

If she hated him, then why had she come back? To torment him? _Why the devil had she returned!_

Erik slammed his fist against the door. By God, he would have his answers.

-------------

He returned to 'haunting' Box Five during rehearsals of _Faust_. She was singing the role of Marguerite – it seemed as though those two imbeciles who called themselves managers had finally recognized her talent – but he could tell that her heart wasn't truly in it. Her voice had an almost mournful quality to it when she sang, and she looked up at Box Five as often as she could. The first day of rehearsals, she even seemed reluctant to walk onto the stage! Erik saw Meg pull her aside before the rehearsal began.

"Christine, are you all right?"

She shook her head, but Erik did not catch her whispered response, as she was facing away from him.

Erik was baffled. Two weeks passed; she improved slightly, but not much. Something was holding back her angelic voice. What? It was clear to him that she was less enthusiastic about being there. Why, then, had she returned? Perhaps the Vicomte's idea of a sick joke… or another trap set for him?

He continued to watch the practices in silence, but the answers he sought never brought themselves forward. He thought once or twice about speaking to her in her dressing room – he even went up to the mirror once, and saw that she had fallen asleep at her dressing table. He wanted so much to call to her, to take her in his arms again, to… No. No, he couldn't do that. She thought him a monster, after all.

-------------

Erik sprang back just in time as the string on his piano snapped. He swore loudly and in every language that came to mind – that blasted piano was proving to be more trouble than it was worth!

He stopped cursing when he heard what sounded like a splash, shortly followed by someone screaming…

"Erik! Erik! Help! ERIK!"

"Christine…" he whispered, then shot to his feet. A few yards away from his house, he saw his boat overturned in the water, the pole floating nearby, with a faint ripple in between. He couldn't see her anywhere.

Without a moment's hesitation, he jumped into the icy lake. He doubted she could swim… He found her rather quickly; she was sinking slowly, and her eyes were closed. Grabbing her around the waist, he tugged her back to the surface of the lake. When his head broke the surface of the water, he gasped and panted hard, but her head just lolled disconcertingly to one side.

"Hold on, _mon ange_, please…" he said worriedly as he pulled her out of the water and laid her on the bank.

He checked her pulse quickly – she was still alive! But she wasn't breathing… Without thinking, he disentangled her from the sopping dress and corset. Once she was free of the latter, she coughed violently, her eyes snapping open for a moment, and choked up several mouthfuls of water. But once the coughing fit subsided, she closed her eyes again, apparently unconscious.

He had to dry her off somehow, keep her warm. It _was_ February, and although his home had gas lines that heated it, the tunnels and lake did not. With embarrassment, he realized that she was also now wearing only a very wet chemise. Tentatively, he put one arm around her shoulders, the other under her knees, and picked her up easily. As he carried her into his house, her head leaned against his chest; the feeling of her in his arms once more was euphoric.

He couldn't think about that now. He had to take care of Christine… _Christine_… he realized that today had been the first time he'd allowed himself to use her name since the day she'd left all those weeks ago.

He dried her off as best he could, then placed her in her bed, pulling the covers tightly over her. He lit the little fireplace in the corner of her room, and, smiling, turned to leave, closing the door behind him.

She had come back!

But her sudden arrival at his home added more questions than it answered. He had heard the way she'd spoken about his face, had seen her extreme reluctance to perform… If she truly did hate him, was truly afraid of him, then why had she come down there? Why had she come searching for him?

He changed into dry clothes and made himself a cup of tea he didn't really want, staring down at it without really seeing it. Instead, he was trying to puzzle out the answers to all is questions, questions which all lead back to one: why had she returned?

Hours passed. When he finally did take a sip of his tea, it was cold and quite vile from sitting so long. And he didn't have any answers, either. He supposed he wouldn't until Christine woke up.

Christine… getting up, he walked tentatively over to her room to check on her. She was still asleep. He stepped into the room and smiled – whatever her reasons, Erik could not fool himself into thinking that he was not glad that she had come back; in fact, he was thrilled. He reached out with a quivering hand towards his beautiful Christine, his fingers gently brushing her cheek…

He immediately pulled his hand back and looked at Christine in horror. He realized now that her face was dangerously flushed, and her cheek had been hot! Damn! Despite all his efforts, she had gotten sick!

He spent nearly all of the next two days trying to bring her fever down. Erik could not help but place the blame on himself – it was his fault she'd come. He should never have involved Christine with him in the first place. It had done both of them more harm than good… He pressed another cool, wet cloth to her forehead and told himself that she would be all right…

--------------

Early on Monday morning, Christine's fever broke at last. She opened her lovely eyes and looked up at him with a smile! She reached towards him and touched his face! Erik had to work hard to conceal just how pleasantly surprised he was at this; he merely smiled gently at her.

"Erik… I thought you were… were dead…" Her voice was rather hoarse; probably the joined effects of near-drowning and being ill for so long.

"Hush, Christine, lie still. I'm here; nothing can harm you. Rest now, _mon ange_ – you're safe now."

Christine smiled and closed her eyes, taking hold of his hand as she did so. When Erik was sure she was asleep, he dared to touch her with his free hand, stroking her hair and brushing his fingers against her cheek…

No. He gently pulled free of Christine's grip and left the room. He couldn't allow himself to show how much he loved her – she had to get away from here, from him. There was a better life for her somewhere, he knew it. She was beautiful, talented… and he was a beast. For her own sake, he had to get her to leave. For good, this time. She would be happier that way, he knew. Free from the Opera Ghost forever.

He only hoped that he would be able to force himself to let her go again.

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A/N: Those two lines of song are from one of the lyrical numbers from my sister's dance team. Go UPAC! Right... Anyway, the song is actually called "_Ain't_ No Sunshine" but I highly doubted that anyone in 19th century France would say "ain't," so I changed it a bit. I haven't a clue who originally sang it, so unfortunately I can't tell you. Please don't hurt me!

For those of you who don't speak French, _zut alors_ is about the equivalent of "curses," or any such extremely mild exclamation of discontent. Hey, you can hardly ask your mom how to say "damn" in French, can you?


	16. The Confrontation

A/N: I know. Another title that's not mine. This one, though, I just _had _to put in. There's about five musicals with a song called "The Confrontation": _Les Miserables, Jekyll & Hyde, Miss Saigon_... So, yeah. The musical theater junkie in me reared its head and made me use it. (Plus, I couldn't think of anything better...)

Thanks to **HDKingsbury**, **LonesomeGurlAngelofDeath**, **Roxanne**, and **me!** for their reviews. They are much appreciated!

And, since we've got past 45 reviews, you get two chapters today! I'll have to save the next double update for 60 reviews, though - I;m running out of chapters!

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Chapter 16: The Confrontation

I woke again hours later. I felt rather the worse for wear – who knew water could have such adverse effects? I stretched with a yawn and suddenly realized that I was practically half-naked. I turned beet red at the thought, firmly wrapping a light blanket around my shoulders as I swung out of bed.

The more I thought about it, though, the more it made sense. I doubted that Erik would have been able to dry off my dress in time to keep me from getting sick. Poor Erik – that had to have been just as uncomfortable for him as it was for me.

Erik. I wanted desperately to see him. That had been why I'd gotten myself into all that trouble with the boat in the first place. But I couldn't very well go looking for him dressed as I was, and so I began to take a better look at the room I was in.

It seemed almost as though it were supposed to be for me. There was a dressing table on the wall to the right of the bed, and on the other wall, a door that led to what I discovered what a bathroom. There was also a desk and a little shelf, on which sat the music box I had awoken to last time, along with a large wooden armoire. I opened it, and I smiled at Erik's thoughtfulness. There were, in fact, a few dresses inside, including the one I'd been wearing when I had come down, which showed no signs of having been submerged underwater. I laughed weakly – the only thing that seemed to point out that I'd nearly drowned at all was the fact that I was so wretchedly tired…

I took one of the dresses, a pale blue and green one, out of the closet and put it on – it fit perfectly. I wondered briefly how Erik had come across a dress that fit me so well, but I immediately realized that the information necessary would have been very easy to find in the costume department.

A search of the dressing table provided a brush and a few hairpins. I pinned back the sides of my hair, slipped into my shoes – which also did not look as though they had gotten wet in the slightest – and opened the door. I suddenly realized that I had no idea where Erik was, or how exactly to find my way through his labyrinthine house. There was no music I could follow this time, either, which struck me as odd.

"Erik?" I called softly. "Are you there?"

I knew he had to be here. I'd seen him earlier. And he had rescued me – I had to at least thank him.

"Erik? Where are you, _mon ange_?"

I didn't notice that he had stepped out into the hallway behind me. When I turned, he had to quickly hide the pained expression on his face. Had I said something wrong? But no, he quickly smiled at me. In spite of myself, I felt my heart beat a little faster at that smile.

"I am glad to see you back to your usual self, Christine."

"I have you to thank for that, Erik. You saved my life." I said with a smile. How I had missed that voice!

He said nothing.

"I was so worried about you, Erik. When I came back, Meg said you had gone, that no one knew what had happened to you. She showed me your mask… someone had found it broken. I was so afraid that something had happened to you! I had to come and find you, but I… well, as you saw, I had a bit of difficulty with the boat…"

Erik cut through my awkward rambling suddenly, and I noticed that his smile had gone. He looked… resigned. Sad.

"What are you doing here, Christine?" he said quietly.

"I… I was worried about you…" I replied shakily, puzzled.

"No. I meant, what are you doing back at the Opera? You should not be here."

"Why? Erik, I came back to find you, to…"

I was about to say 'to apologize,' but Erik cut in, starting to sound angry.

"To find me? Christine, you left. It was meant for you not to return."

"Erik, why…"

"You left with your precious _Vicomte_; you should have stayed with him!"

I stared at Erik for a long moment, startled by his outburst. Of all the things I had expected, hostility and aversion had not been among them. But I was no longer incapable of using my head – I was ready to fight for this.

"You told me to go, Erik." I said coolly. "I tried to stay – I agreed I would stay – but you told us both to leave."

"You have run from me before, Christine. Need I remind both of us?"

"No, Erik, but need I remind you, I had good reason to be afraid of you then. You killed Joseph Buquet."

Erik ignored my accusation and flung one at me instead.

"So, then, if you think me such a fiend, why did you return? To torment me?" Erik growled loudly.

I was shocked. Did he really think that badly of me?

"I have never hated you in my life, Erik!" I shouted.

"You have just admitted that you are afraid of me! Do not try to lie to me, Christine. And, if, as you say, I killed Joseph Buquet, what is to stop me from doing you harm?" Erik shouted back, his temper finally getting the better of him.

"I never said that, Erik! I said I _was_ afraid of you – rightfully so! I never said that I _still_ was! Never!"

"I said, do not lie to me, Christine! I heard you speak to that insolent little Giry about my face! I have seen your aversion to the stage! You told that blasted friend of yours that you saw my face, and she offered you pity! And do not think I have forgotten the way you screamed when you first saw it!"

Admittedly, I was beginning to be frightened by Erik's shouting, but I was determined now not to show it. Instead, I raised my chin to look stubbornly up at him.

"Erik, if you are going to eavesdrop on conversations, you must learn to stay for their entirety." I snapped. "How much did you hear? Just Meg's reply, no doubt." I looked him in the eye, and I saw that I had been right. He had only heard Meg's comment about that awful girl Jammes… "Well, I shall have you know, Monsieur Erik, that I _defended you_ on that particular occasion! I told Meg that you were not, are not, a monster. I said that your face was just another mask, that you never kidnapped me, that you let Raoul and I go yourself. That you were just a man, a man and my angel."

"I recall another occasion in which you called me 'all too real,' and described me as having a 'horrible, monstrous face.' I recall yet another instance in which you unmasked me in front of the entire Paris Opera House! I recall all too well the screams I have received from you, Christine Daaé, you and countless others! All I asked was to be left alone with my monstrosity, although it seems that I am denied even that!"

In spite of myself, I had nothing to say in self-defense, because everything he said was true. Completely, horrifyingly true. I looked away so that he could not see the tears starting in my eyes.

"It is I who have been the monster, not you, Erik. You are a fallen angel; I am the cruel one." I whispered, but I knew he heard me, for when I dared look up again, he too had turned his head away.

"What time is it?" I asked, by feeble way of changing the subject.

Erik looked over my head to what must have been a wall clock behind me.

"Six thirty." he said simply.

I raised an eyebrow.

"Erik, I think your clock is wrong. Rehearsal ended at six thirty – the boat did not turn over for another hour at least."

"Six thirty on Monday evening."

"_What_?" I cried, incredulous. That meant I had missed a day of rehearsal! Someone would be looking for me! "Erik, I must get back. I'll be in such trouble… why on earth was I here so long?"

"You fell ill for two days."

"Oh." I said. Tentatively, I asked, "Erik… I don't mean to impose, but I don't trust myself alone in that boat… could you…"

"Of course I will take you back to your dressing room, Miss Daaé." Erik replied, with the first hint of a smile I'd seen all evening. I returned the smile weakly, even though I felt horribly ashamed of myself, as I should.

------------

I stepped back through the mirror three days after I had first gone into the tunnels and closed it quietly behind me. I began to gather my things to head home, as I knew rehearsal would be over by now, as Erik's clock was confirmed by my own – it was seven fifteen then. Suddenly my dressing room door flew open, and Madame Giry and Meg entered, Madame Giry holding a lantern and scolding Meg.

"No, Meg, you _cannot_ come with me… Christine! What in God's name where you thinking, going back down there?"

"I went to find Erik." I answered calmly.

"The Opera Ghost is gone, Christine."

"No, Madame Giry, he's alive. I saw him; he just brought me back when I realized that I had missed rehearsal. I went down Friday evening… I didn't expect to be gone so long…"

"What on _earth_ were you _doing _down there for so long? Christine, what has gotten into you?"

"I had a bit of difficulty with the boat, Madame Giry. It capsized. Erik rescued me, but I got sick from being that wet in February." I replied, unable to keep a slight laugh out of my voice at the extreme foolishness of the situation.

"Christine, you could have been _killed_, did you realize that?" Madame Giry snapped; Meg was still staring with the same startled expression. The small smile that had appeared on my face a moment before vanished.

"I know… I never meant it to get so out of hand… But I had to see him again, to find out if he was all right… I needed to know." I answered quietly.

And I _had_ seen him again. I knew he was all right. Even though we had not reunited on the best of terms… no, I mustn't think about that. I would find a way, somehow. I had to.

A long silence followed my words as both Girys stared at me. No doubt this confirmed their suspicions about my sanity.

"You caused quite the uproar at rehearsal today, Christine. A few were wondering if there was such a thing as a ghost of a ghost." Meg said, finally smiling.

I grinned, thinking of the overly superstitious girls of the _corps de ballet_.

"I should hate to spoil their fun with something so insubstantial as a boat, wouldn't you, Meg? I won't say anything at all to them, though. I couldn't possibly tell them anything about Erik… he's suffered enough."

Madame Giry looked at me very strangely for a long moment; I soon realized that it was pride I saw in the old woman's eyes.

"Come then, you two, let's get home. You especially, Christine – you have a lot to catch up on tomorrow."

My smile widened as I looked at my foster family.

"I look forward to it."

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A/N: Poor Christine. That didn't exactly go according to plan, did it? Hope you liked it - now, on to chapter 17!


	17. A Rose by Any Other Name

A/N: (Points at title) Yes, I know what you're thinking: _God, she_'s _stealing titles from Shakespeare now? Does this girl hold _anything_ sacred? _Well, yeah, I do, but not when it comes to chapter titles! Right, anyway, on to the chapter!

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Chapter 17: A Rose by Any Other Name

Meg had not lied when she said I caused an uproar. The moment I set foot into the theater the next day, I was immediately surrounded by the ballet girls and a few members of the chorus, all clamoring to know exactly where I had been.

"Why'd you miss rehearsal yesterday, Christine? Was it the Ghost? Did he come get you again?" little Jammes asked, doing a poor job of hiding her excitement with 'concern.'

"Ooooh, yes, Christine, do tell us!" another girl I couldn't see squealed.

I resisted the urge to shout at all of them. How dare they treat Erik with such disrespect! But I remembered that day that Meg had first told me the Phantom's story; I had once participated in antics such as these. But I refused to do so any longer. Calmly, I asked them to allow me to pass, which they did, albeit unwillingly, once they realized that I wasn't going to tell them anything.

I realized how much I had been missing in rehearsals by being so forlorn. Carlotta was gone, a more than welcome change. But so much of the cast had changed, and I had not bothered to take notice before. The _corps de ballet_ and the general chorus was largely the same, for most of them could not afford to leave, but nearly all of the principals and many stagehands and musicians were gone, replaced by people I did not know. I made an effort to, finally, offering an unspoken apology for my inadvertent cold shoulder. Meg, who was thrilled that I had at last come out of my shell, introduced me to the man who had replaced Buquet as flyman and stage manager, whom she had befriended. His name was Henri Martin; he was tall and dark haired, and very polite. He seemed quite the amiable fellow and I could tell that Meg was already very fond of him.

That first few days of real awareness were a sharp reminder of the other reason I had had to return – music. Had I married Raoul, I would have been denied the chance to perform. I would have regretted that for the rest of my life, I knew. I had always performed – I sang with my father for crowds in little villages when I was younger; I was a part of the ballet for months. The whole cast was relieved to see that I was finally putting in an effort in rehearsals, when before I had merely floated through them, as though I was not really there. I knew that Erik was alive, now. That was enough.

---------------

I hadn't realized how close we were getting to the performance of _Faust_. But it seemed that we hadbeen practicing for nearly a month. How did I let time slip by me so often…? But less than a week after I returned from Erik's house on the lake, we were given our costumes. Mine were far more comfortable than the dress I had worn for Erik's opera, and simpler too. I couldn't wait to perform again, to _enjoy_ performing again at last! The last two had been so disastrous…

The first performance of _Faust_ was anything but disastrous. It was already a popular opera, and the managers had somehow amassed a wonderful cast. I sang for Erik, glancing up at Box Five when I could get away with it, hoping against hope that he would be there, would be listening. I gave everything I had, and to a marvelous reception. We were given a standing ovation, and I received two curtain calls. I was grinning from ear to ear by the time I finally got backstage.

Henri waved as I was passing, and I went over to speak to him, still grinning.

"I see you worked out the kinks in that set change in Act IV." I said laughingly.

He returned my grin.

"And I see that you gave a wonderful performance, Miss Daaé. Bravo!"

"Please, Monsieur, call me Christine."

"If you will call me Henri."

"All right, then, Henri." I laughed.

"I had better go find Meg and offer her my congratulations." He excused himself with a nod-like bow and strode off. I turned round towards the other wings and my dressing room, but ran into Meg first.

"Henri's looking for you…" I began, but was interrupted by Meg giving me a very enthusiastic hug.

"Christine, you were wonderful this evening!" she cried excitedly.

"Thank you, Meg. So were you. We all were, I think. This cast is wonderful. And look – no croaking or chandeliers."

Meg laughed and released me.

"It's so good to have you back, Christine. I mean, back to your old self. You haven't been this happy around the stage in such a long time…"

"Well, circumstances were quite a lot different, then. But I promise you, I am quite finished with being forlorn. Goodness knows, I was such a fool…"

"Christine…"

"What, Meg? I was – there's no point in denying it. But I won't be anymore. I'm back here with my friends… and besides, it was giving me a headache." I grinned.

Meg laughed and hugged me again, then began looking around to see where Henri had got to.

"He went that way." I said with a smile, inclining my head towards the stage left wings.

Meg thanked me and bounded off. I shook my head, still smiling, and made my way towards my dressing room.

I had forgotten just how crowded the backstage corridors could get after a performance, as the last two had not gone well at all. The hallway that led to my dressing room was packed with audience members trying to see this cast member or that. I was stopped and complimented many times, and I politely refused quite a few offers of dinner. I didn't realize just how drained the performance had left me until I found myself attempting to weave my way through the packed hallway.

_Tonight I gave you my soul, Erik, and I am dead…_ What a peculiar thing to think. With a quiet laugh, I credited it to an actress's natural sense of melodrama.

Exhausted, I opened my dressing room door, welcoming the thought of a bit of rest and solitude, just in time to catch the swish of a black cloak and the click of the mirror-door closing.

"Erik?" I asked, but there was no reply. Fine, then – I'd let him play his little game for now.

I looked around to find the reason he had been in my dressing room and found it easily – a single, long-stemmed, red rose. I picked up the flower and held it as though it would break, almost as though I was afraid it would vanish. I knew exactly why he had brought it, and the thought nearly pushed me to tears. He was offering it to ask my forgiveness for shouting at me, when I deserved to be shouted at. I sank down onto my chair, abandoning my concern for the rose's well-being and clutching it to me, holding the fragrant blossom close to my face.

"Oh, Erik, you have no reason to apologize… I should be the one begging forgiveness…"

I heard a soft noise from behind the mirror and my head jerked up.

"Erik, wait…!" I cried. "Please, I know you're there… I can feel it…" It was a strange thing to say, but it was true; I had the strange, spine-tingling sensation of being watched, and yet it was not at all unpleasant.

Slowly, painfully slowly, the mirror swung open again and Erik stepped into my dressing room, although he did not stray far from his exit.

"Oh, Erik, I'm so sorry." I blurted out, trying very hard to maintain what little composure I had left, although the rose in my hands shook, betraying me. "I've been such a fool… I never meant to hurt you, never… I made so many mistakes… And you shouldn't apologize for anything, Erik, I deserved it. Every word you said was true… I've been so horrible to you. You, who have been nothing but kind to me… I should never have been afraid of you. I should never have run from you… You are my friend, my teacher, my… my angel…"

I looked away, unable to continue. I put my hand to my face and choked back a sob. The long silence was almost unbearable; it weighed down on me like a ton of bricks. Even though I had shut my eyes, a single rogue tear escaped my guard and rolled down my cheek…

Suddenly, I heard Erik whisper my name, so softly that it was almost inaudible. And I felt his feather-light touch on my face, felt his finger brush aside that tear…

Just as suddenly, Erik pulled his hand away. I opened my eyes and looked up, smiling faintly at him, trying to ignore the strange sensation coursing through me as a result of his gentle touch…

"I… you sang beautifully this evening, Christine." he said at last, although his voice was unusually husky.

"You were there, then?" I asked, my eyes lighting up.

Erik smiled at last; I realized what a nice smile he had.

"Of course I was. I have not missed a performance in years. Although I had to watch from the flies this time; they had the impertinence to sell my box. To them, I am dead, however, so it seems only logical…"

"You watched from the flies? Erik, someone could have seen you! You said yourself – everyone thinks you're dead! And they will _not_ be anywhere _near_ as pleased as I am to discover otherwise…"

Erik merely stared at me for a moment, both sides of his face a mask of forced calm at my implication. Didn't he know how much I cared?

"No one will see me, Christine. And if they do, they will not catch me."

"Yes, but Erik, it's that 'if' that worries me. The managers know where you live now – it won't take much more than a rumor among the ballet girls to set them on another ghost hunt…" I suddenly realized that my second disappearance might have started that exact rumor, and I went white. Why did my idiocy have to hurt Erik? Why?

I suddenly had an idea. It was risky, but it just might work…

"Erik, perhaps I can help. I may be able to find out a way that you can watch the performances without jeopardizing your safety…"

"Christine, you needn't do this…"

"Erik, it is my fault that all this has happened to you. So much is my fault… If anything were to happen to you now… now that I may have a chance to prevent it… Please, Erik, let me try."

I didn't need to say any more; there was a silent plea in my eyes that I knew he could see. His hardened expression softened a little, and I smiled.

"Thank you, Erik."

He nodded curtly. "Shall I come here before the performance tomorrow evening to see whether or not it is 'safe' for me to observe?"

I nodded, then subconsciously reached up to brush back a stray curl. Erik looked at me in a very strange manner; his eyes never left me for a long, tense moment. He finally looked away and excused himself, beginning to step back through the mirror.

"Erik…" I said quickly before he vanished. His head reappeared, and I could tell that he was listening. "Thank you… Thank you for the rose. It's beautiful."

Erik whispered something very, very quietly before clearing his throat and saying 'You're welcome,' then vanishing through the mirror once again. I stared after him for a long time, still clutching the rose. I could have sworn that he had said "So are you, _mon ange_."

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A/N: Well, what do you think? Am I doing a good job? Your feedback is always appreciated and often very helpful! Thanks loads to those who already leave me reviews - to those of you who don't, thanks for reading, and I would love to hear from you! Thanks! --Kyrie


	18. Raoul's Return

A/N: Hello again! Thought you might like another chapter. A good deal of stuff happens in this one... it's also where the plot first began to fall apart on me. From here on out was a mess when I first wrote it. Note the "was." I've fixed it... or at least, I hope so. I'll leave you to be the judge, my good readers.

Before I say anything else, I'd like to mention that I know almost nothing about Charles Gonoud's _Faust_. I know the basic plotline, and that's about it. You'll see why in a minute, and I'll explain why I stuck in what I did at the end. Sorry if I make a complete mess of it!

Thanks to **HDKingsbury** and **LonesomeGurlAngelofDeath** for their reviews. If anyone else sent me one, I'm sorry if I missed you, but the site's being annoying and I can't get at my review page, bother. Well, enjoy!

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Chapter 18: Raoul's Return

I went to the Opera early the next morning to try and seek out Henri before the next performance. I had a sneaking suspicion that Erik had done more than just 'observe' the night before. During rehearsals, especially towards the first performance, I noticed that Henri was having difficulty pulling out the set staircase that folded up against the back of the stage, behind the curtains, in time, as it was a large and rather complicated set piece, and there weren't quite enough stage hands available to help him. The night before, however, the staircase had unfolded, and in plenty of time. Perhaps Erik had helped him… and if so, perhaps Henri would agree to help Erik.

I found him backstage, and I convinced him to talk to me alone for a moment. Standing behind a large wooden cutout, I asked him what he at first perceived as a very strange question.

"Henri… did you… perhaps… see anyone backstage last night… anyone who was not part of the cast or crew?"

"Christine, what an odd thing to… But wait, on second thought, I believe I might have. It was during Act IV, when I have so much trouble with that accursed staircase…"

I knew it!

"I ran to go and pull it out, along with three of my stage hands, but I noticed one other fellow there. He was extremely helpful, so I didn't tell him off for being backstage when he shouldn't have been. I don't think anyone else saw him – he stayed off to the side, and it can get dark back there when the lights are turned down for a set change. He seemed like an odd sort… he was a bit shadowy, really…"

I couldn't help it – I laughed.

"Henri, you truly haven't been here long, have you?" I then looked around nervously and lowered my voice. "That was no shadow; that was the Phantom himself!"

"What? But I thought he was dead…"

"No, Henri, he's not, and I'd much prefer it if he stayed that way. You see, he can't watch from Box Five anymore – haunted by the ghost of a ghost? Hardly a frightening enough tale to keep people from purchasing the box, is it? But I'm worried about him… If anyone sees him backstage, it could cost him his life… Please, Henri, do you know of anywhere that he can watch from without being seen? I'm sure that he would help you with the stair again, if you needed it…"

"Of course, Christine, I know the perfect place. It's a bit of an inconvenient angle, but he'll be able to see everything."

"Oh, Henri, thank you! Where is it?"

Henri pointed out a little catwalk on the backstage side of the proscenium.

"It's very rare that we need to go up there, Christine. Your ghostly friend won't have any trouble, and no one will see him if he keeps to the shadows, which he seems to do naturally. And when you speak to him, please give him my thanks for his help last night."

"I will. Thank you, Henri, that's perfect. I can't wait to tell him!"

----------------

Erik was less enthusiastic than I had hoped, but then, he wasn't fond of the idea of letting anyone else know that he was still there. I assured him that I trusted Henri, however, and when I told Erik that Henri had thanked him, he seemed placated.

"Very few people have ever thanked me for anything, Christine. I shall trust this man, if you are truly convinced that it is for the best."

"Yes, Erik, I think it is. I don't want you caught… you… you have suffered more than enough…"

Erik stared at me for a long moment.

"Madame Giry told you, didn't she? About my… about the past."

"Yes." I said quietly. "I'm sorry, Erik, so sorry."

"There is nothing you could have done, Christine, and nothing you can do now to change it. And there is much that you do not know… I would prefer it if you went on not knowing… But do not apologize, Christine. It was not of your doing."

"I do want to keep anything else from happening to you, Erik." I said shyly, dropping my eyes to the floor. I knew this was a touchy subject for him.

"I… Thank you, Christine."

My eyes rose again quickly. Erik's tone had been – if it were possible – almost, slightly, marginally _embarrassed_. It occurred to me that he may never have had the occasion to thank anyone before, and certainly never anyone who he was thanking for trying to keep him alive, for caring.

"You're welcome, Erik." I replied with a soft smile.

------------

If possible, that night's performance went even better than the last. I knew Erik helped with the staircase again, and it was wonderful to know he was so near, standing just over my head in the darkness. And the thought that I was finally doing something to help him was fantastic.

Afterwards, I made my way as quickly as I could to my dressing room, changed, and washed off my stage makeup. I sat down, waiting for a few minutes, wondering if Erik would come and contemplating calling to him.

A knock on my door interrupted me, and I automatically called "Come in!"

Raoul opened the door and came in, carrying a large bouquet of red and yellow roses.

"Raoul! What a surprise! It's nice to see you." I said with a smile.

And it was. I had missed my old friend a bit over the past few weeks.

"You were wonderful tonight, Christine." he said, handing me the bouquet.

"Thank you." I replied quietly.

I took the flowers, and we both stood there rather awkwardly for a long, tense moment before we both burst out laughing.

"I really don't quite see what's so funny, but your laughter is contagious, Christine." Raoul said with a chuckle.

"It's just, you've come all the way to Paris to say hello, and we both stand here staring at each other like a pair of statues." I replied, grinning. "How have you been, Raoul?"

"Fine." he said quickly. "But that's not what I came to Paris to talk about. What I want to know is how have _you_ been?"

"Quite well, thank you. I'm so glad to be performing again, and for more than one night! _Il Muto_ and _Don Juan_… It's just nice to be back on a regular schedule, and not constantly rehearsing."

Raoul nodded in understanding, although I could tell he thought I was beating around the bush. I could tell that all he really wanted to know was whether or not I had found Erik, whether or not I might reconsider his proposal. I averted my eyes, concentrating on the flowers I still held.

"I'd better find a vase for these…" I murmured, then turned away, looking through the small cabinet in the back of the room for the glass vase I'd put there for just such a purpose. When I'd found it, I filled it with the water I hadn't used to wash the stage makeup off and placed the roses inside, pretending to be distracted with arranging them when Raoul next spoke.

"Have you found him, then?"

I looked up, feigning puzzlement.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Have you found him? Your Phantom fellow?"

"Yes. I saw him again last night." I chose not to mention how long I had thought he was dead, how everyone else still thought he was dead. I did not want to anger him.

I saw his eyes flick to my dressing table, where I had balanced Erik's rose in an old glass candle holder. It was a much darker red than the ones Raoul had given me and perfectly opened. Subconsciously, I reached out and stroked the velvety petals lovingly…

Raoul coughed, and I jumped, looking up at him timidly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" I stammered, trying to apologize.

"Don't, Christine. Don't apologize." Raoul interrupted, his voice rough. "It was nice to see you again. I am glad you're happy here. Unfortunately, I've got to dash – I'm expected somewhere. Good evening, Christine."

Raoul bowed slightly and left my dressing room, leaving cold, hurt silence in his wake. I pressed my hands to my face for a moment, cursing myself for being so inadvertently thoughtless.

"He'll forgive you, Christine." Erik's voice said from behind me.

I whirled to find him standing not four feet away, the mirror open a bit behind him. He must have entered the moment that Raoul left.

"Erik! How was your new 'box'?" I asked playfully, beaming.

"Your friend was right; it was a bit of an awkward angle, but an interesting one, I'll admit. And it is very easy to keep from being seen there. Give this man – Henri, correct? – my thanks."

I smiled gently.

"I knew this would work."

Erik's calm façade seemed to be melting away at last, for he smiled kindly at me and reached his hand out towards me, laying it tenderly on my cheek. I closed my eyes with a sigh and leaned into his gentle caress… I reached up and covered his hand with my own, willing him to go on… but his fingers slowly slipped out from beneath mine. When I opened my eyes again, he was gone.

------------

The next day, I arrived even earlier, wanting to take advantage of the theater at its emptiest and practice a bit on my own. I warmed up quickly, relishing in the sound of my lone voice echoing around the empty auditorium. I picked the first song that came to mind and began to sing, thinking I would move on to my songs for the opera in a few minutes.

"_I'll know when my love comes along  
I'll know then and there  
I'll know at the sight of his face  
And I'll stop. And I'll stare.   
And I'll know long before we can speak  
I'll know in my heart.  
Yes, I'll know when my love comes along_…!"

I sank down onto the stage floor when I finished, my skirts pooling around me. I closed my eyes and smiled, thinking of Erik. I _did_ know, now. I thought of the way he'd touched me the night before… oh, if _only_ he hadn't disappeared again…

Suddenly, I heard something fluttering down towards me, and I opened my eyes and raised my head. Another one of Erik's dark red roses was dropping down towards me, and I reached up and caught it. I smiled and kissed it, almost reverently.

"Erik," I called softly. "It's just me. You can come d-…"

Abruptly, the door in the stage left wings banged open loudly. I jumped to my feet, looking, alarmed, towards the sounds of the two managers arguing loudly as they made their way over towards me. I didn't dare look up to try and find Erik, to make sure that they wouldn't see him.

"There you are, Miss Daaé, we thought we heard you." André said, giving me a falsely warm smile.

"Mademoiselle, might we have a word with you?" Firmin said stiffly.

"Y-yes, messieurs. What is it?" I asked, unable to keep my voice from shaking a tiny bit.

"Miss Daaé, I'm sure that you are well aware of the events of this past January. I'm sure that you also know that we have presumed that infernal Ghost to be dead, or, at the very least, gone for good. It seems now that neither is true."

"How can that be?" I asked, convincingly playing the innocent.

Firmin, however, seemed to have no patience for me.

"Miss Daaé, the reason that we have come to believe that this Phantom is still with us is that we have heard – from several reliable sources – that he is still here, and every speculation we have heard concerns you."

I fought hard to keep my face calm, to not betray the panic that was steadily building in my mind.

"Me, sir?"

"Yes, you. Do not think that we are blind, Miss Daaé. The Ghost was always insisting that you be elevated to your current status; he was quite adamant about it. You were the pivotal part of the Vicomte's plan to trap him. We know that you know where he is, Miss Daaé. And you are the only way that we can finally rid ourselves of this fiend. So, if you'll kindly take him to us…"

"No." I blurted out.

"Pardon?" André asked, still feigning politeness. I could see that his intentions were not polite in the slightest, however.

"I don't know where he is."

Firmin affixed me with a stern, icy stare. I tried to return it calmly, but I was beginning to panic too much to hide it.

"Miss Daaé, I have a feeling that you are not being entirely truthful. We shall give you until the end of _Faust_…"

"I don't know, I tell you!" I snapped.

"_Au contraire_, Mademoiselle, I think you do. And, since you are in our employment, you do not really have a choice in the matter. As I said, you have until the run of _Faust_ is complete to give us your answer. If you continue to refuse… well, you can be replaced. Good afternoon, Miss Daaé."

The two managers turned and left the stage. The moment they were gone, I began to shake. They knew. They knew Erik was still here, and it was all my fault… Everything I had been so afraid of suddenly flashed through my head, and I had to clap my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.

How did they know? And why did they need me? Surely, they could find him without my help. They had been to his underground home once already… But it seemed like they wanted me to do their dirty work for them, and deliver Erik straight into their hands. Did they think he was an animal, a dog who would obey my ever command? The thought was quite absurd.

It still led back to the fact that they should not have known at all that he was still alive! The ballet girls were sure to have been gossiping, especially after I'd disappeared for a day, but, paranoid as they were, the managers weren't likely to take their word for it. They had mentioned a reliable source…

Raoul. I'd told Raoul that I had seen Erik again. And he had been jealous… but Raoul wouldn't do that… would he? It _couldn't_ have been him, it just couldn't have!

--------------

My performance suffered that evening. My voice shook more than usual, and not from vibrato. I was terrified. I saw the managers in their box on the stage left side, saw Firmin's arrogant smirk… the thought that Raoul might have brought this about… and that I was to betray Erik, my angel… It was all I could do to get through the opera without forgetting every line I had!

Afterwards, I ran to my dressing room, changed out of my costume as quickly as possible, and ran out again, in search of Raoul. I thought I had seen him in the crowd…

I had been right. He was standing in front of the managers' office door. I grabbed his arm and pulled him aside, speaking in an urgent whisper.

"Raoul, tell me you didn't go to the managers about the Phantom. Please, tell me you told them nothing of what I said…"

"I could, but I would never lie to you, Christine. I did tell them."

I nearly burst into tears there and then.

"Oh, Raoul, how could you?" I choked.

"I'm only doing what's best for you, Christine. He's a dangerous man, a murderer. I won't let you throw your life away with a mistake like this. He could kill you, Christine."

I didn't listen to anything else Raoul said. How _dare_ he? Throw my life away… a _mistake_? And Erik, hurt me? Never! I understood that he was just trying to help me, but this was just too much!

"Raoul, just because you can't take no for an answer…" I cut in angrily.

I was silenced quickly, however. Raoul slapped me hard across the face.

_Raoul_ slapped_ me? _Raoul _slapped _me

I stared up at him, my mouth and eyes wide open in a mixture of fury and shock, my hand pressed to my stinging cheek.

"I'll not have you speak to me that way, Christine. I have every intention of making you my wife, and I expect a certain degree of respect from you… Christine! Get back here!"

I had turned and was running back towards my dressing room, with absolutely _no_ intention of going back. I shoved my way through the thinning crowd backstage, ignoring the indignant cries I received.

"Christine!" I heard Meg call, but I didn't answer. I couldn't have if I tried to.

When I reached my dressing room, I slammed my door and went straight to the mirror. I tugged it open, thankfully remembering to shut it, and plunged headlong into the black corridors beyond, screaming.

"Erik! Where are you? Erik! Angel! Where are you?"

I nearly ran into him; I would have if he hadn't been carrying a lantern.

"Christine? What are you doing down here…?"

"Erik!" I cried, throwing my arms around his neck and promptly bursting into tears.

I could feel Erik stiffen beneath me. Slowly, tentatively, I felt his free arm wrap around my waist as I sobbed into his shoulder.

"Christine, what's wrong? What happened?" he said after letting me cry for several minutes. He'd known somehow that I wouldn't have been able to explain anything for a while. He was wonderful.

I raised my head a little to meet his eyes.

"Erik, I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. Everything's all my fault…"

"Nothing's your fault, Christine…"

"Erik, they've figured out that you're still here… The managers… they know… And it's all my fault. The ballet girls must talk about it all the time… And last night, I told Raoul I'd seen you. I should never have told him… I thought he was my friend… But he went straight to the managers… Now they're trying to force me to betray you… hand you over… or… or they'll fire me… Erik, I'm so sorry. I never meant, I won't tell them…"

I broke down again. Erik was staring blankly ahead of him, looking mildly stunned. Simultaneously, the two of us sank to the floor of the tunnel. I was still clinging tightly to him, and he put the lantern down and pulled me close, leaning his unmasked cheek against the top of my head.

"Christine! Christine, are you here?" I heard Madame Giry shout.

"Christine! Are you all right? Christine!" Meg's anxious cry followed.

"She's here, Adele." Erik answered.

I raised my head and turned to look at the two approaching Girys, although I kept my arms around Erik's neck, and his remained gently around my waist and shoulders. I half expected Madame Giry to reprimand me for it, but instead she just smiled sadly down at me, with a small nod of approval. I hung my head dejectedly; at that moment, I didn't deserve anyone's approval.

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A/N: Right, the method behind my madness: if anyone reading has ever seen the stage version of PotO (and I hope to God you have and you aren't comparing this to that dreadful movie), they will remember the staircase in the _Masquerade_ sequence. George Perry, in his brilliant guidebook _The Complete Phantom of the Opera_, explains how it works, and I quote:

"The great curving staircase for the masked ball number, 'Masquerade', is folded, concertina style, to stand flush against the rear stage wall, and overhead the costumed dummies that augment the live revellers hang like rows of bizarre corpses dangling from a gibbet. All through the single interval, while the cast rest and the audience rush for refreshment, a precision team of stagehands,each drilled in a specific task, construct from scratch Maria Björnson's impressionistic version of the Opera foyer. The staircase unfolds and then the set is silently peopled, first by the dummies on poles thrust through holes in the set, later by the cast, and invariably, as the curtain rises for the second act, the audience applaud the eerie beauty of the scene."

I highly doubt that there really is any such staircase anywhere in _Faust_, much less in Act IV, but it just struck me as an amazingly difficult set and, after watching the stage crew struggle to move the heavy setpieces around during our school's production of _Footloose_, I know just how close set changes are cut. So, my brain stuck it into the story. Apologies to mega _Faust_ lovers.

The song was "I'll Know" from Frank Loesser's _Guys and Dolls_. Again, it just seemed to fit. Thanks for reading!


	19. Hope and Memory

A/N: (Early this morning) Me: No! No, don't make me go back there! I don't want to go! No! No! NOOOOOOOOOO!

Yep. I went back to school today. Ugh. I can already tell that my Spanish class is going to be a nightmare. Lovely. So, since I think everybody deserves a treat after suffering the endless filling out of index cards with your name, address, phone nomber, book number, and personal interests. This is mine to you.

Thanks muchly to **HDKingsbury**, **Katherine Silverhair**, **LonesomeGurlAngelofDeath**, and **Truth Questor** for their reviews! Now, here's something that I know (almost) everybody loves - shameless E/C fluff! Yay! Oh, and whoever guesses where the title of this chapter came from gets a (cough imaginary) fruit basket.

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Chapter 19: Hope and Memory

Once Meg and Madame Giry had listened to Erik tell my story – I couldn't bear the thought of recounting it again – and were satisfied that I was all right and that it was safe to leave me with him, they returned to the Opera house, probably to gather their things and head home. I did not join them; instead, I went with Erik, back to the house on the lake. Quite frankly, I don't think I would have been able to leave him, now that I knew what might happen if I did. My fears that I would never see my angel again had resurfaced at an alarming rate.

When we arrived, Erik offered me a cup of tea, which I gratefully accepted. He took me into a room I hadn't seen before; there was a small, upright piano, an armchair, several bookcases, and a large fireplace. As Erik stoked the fire, I wondered vaguely how he had managed to put a fireplace in his home, since it was several stories underground. I stopped wondering when the fire flared into life, casting a warm, flickering glow over the otherwise dark room. Since there was only one chair, I sank down onto the floor, thoroughly exhausted. I stared into the flames for a long moment, not really seeing them.

How could I have been so wrong about Raoul? Yes, I had mistaken childhood fondness for love, but I thought he could at least be a friend… But he was a Vicomte, part of the upper class, probably not used to being refused… And perhaps the thing that hurt most about his betrayal was that he thought he was doing the right thing…

"Erik, I'm sorry." I whispered.

I felt, rather than heard, him sit down on the floor next to me, only a mere few inches between us.

"You needn't apologize, Christine. I know that this is not your fault."

"Yes, it is, Erik. I misjudged Raoul. I thought I could at least trust him. I was wrong."

"He was an old friend of yours, Christine. It is an honest mistake; the fault is not yours."

"I've made too many mistakes recently." I replied quietly.

"Christine… If it's not too much to ask… Tell me exactly what happened. What did those three fools say?"

Sullenly, I recounted nearly word-for-word everything that the managers and Raoul had said to me; it was quite easy to remember, as every word still resounded in my mind with painful clarity.

I nearly spilled my tea when I told Erik in a very small voice that Raoul had hit me.

"He did _what_?" he shouted, making me jump.

Gently, Erik took my chin in his hand and turned my head to see the left side of my face properly. The mark Raoul's hand had left was barely visible, but it was there nonetheless.

"I'll _kill_ that little upstart… How _dare_ he…" Erik snarled, moving as though to get to his feet.

"Erik…" I said quickly, laying my hand gently on his arm.

He stopped mid-motion to look down at me; I was gazing up at him, a soft smile on my face.

"Erik, please don't. He's not worth the trouble you'll get into… He really didn't hurt me very much… Please, Erik, pay him no heed. It's safer that way… you don't need another murder against you…" I added carefully.

Erik sighed and returned all his weight to the floor. He looked away for a moment, although my hand still rested on his arm.

"Christine, I didn't kill him. Buquet. I did not kill him… It was an accident."

My eyes widened in surprise as he looked back at me.

"I _was_ attempting to frighten him out of telling those dreadful tales about me… He knew a bit too much; he was the one who started the rumor of my house on the lake that Meg told you about. But he fell off the catwalk we were standing on… and got caught in the ropes underneath us. I had no intention of killing him, Christine."

After staring at him for a moment, I dared to voice my thoughts:

"Piangi?"

At this, Erik actually laughed. I remembered hearing him chuckle at Meg and I, and at the rehearsal before the gala of _Hannibal_, but this was different. This was real laughter, and it was just as wonderful to listen to as his angel's voice; it was like soft, distant thunder.

"Have the ballet girls really come so far as that? Piangi is not dead, Christine – from what I have gathered from the managers, he went back to Italy in a huff because I knocked him out and put him in a closet. Although I suppose the rumors were helped along by Carlotta; she made quite a scene before he came round, from what I've heard."

I smiled.

"You certainly seem to have heard quite a lot, Erik."

He returned my smile; it was fantastic when he smiled.

"When one is a ghost, my dear, one tends to hear quite a lot."

I laughed, glad to know that everyone had been wrong about this. I knew that no one else would believe that Erik was not a murderer, but I believed him. Stifling a yawn, I shifted over a little, closing the few-inch gap between us. I curled up against Erik's side, resting my head against his shoulder, the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear. He pressed his cheek against the top of my head again, and he wrapped a comforting arm around my shoulders. I sighed and nestled in closer, closing my eyes sleepily. Erik started to sing softly to me as I began to drift off…

"_Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor,  
Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender.  
Hearing is believing, music is deceiving   
Hard as lightning soft as candlelight  
Dare you trust the music of the night_..."

For the first time in months, there was not a single nightmare to disturb my dreams.

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I did not open my eyes right away when I woke the next morning. I was so warm and comfortable, and I had been having the most wonderful dream… I dreamt that I had fallen asleep in Erik's arms…

My pillow suddenly shifted a little, and my eyes shot open. In that instant, I knew it hadn't been a dream. Erik's fireplace and my half-finished cup of tea were there in front of me, and my angel was still asleep next to me, his head resting on the seat of the armchair behind him. I smiled and closed my eyes again, not wanting that moment to pass…

Erik lifted his head then, and he seemed rather surprised to find me there.

"Christine…" he breathed, moving his hand to gently touch my long curls.

"Good morning, Erik." I said sleepily, raising my head to look at him.

His demeanor changed the moment he knew I was awake.

"I… I'm sorry, Christine, I should have taken you to your room when you fell asleep…"

"Erik, it's fine. I don't mind at all." I said with a slight laugh.

Erik's mask had been knocked slightly askew, and I reached up and pushed it gently back into its proper place. He gave me a wordless nod of thanks before getting to his feet, stretching.

"What time is it?" I asked, looking up at him from my position on the floor.

"Ten thirty." Erik said, glancing over at the small clock on the fireplace mantle.

"Erik, I've been wondering… how did you manage to put a fireplace in your home? We are underground…"

"The Opera holds many secrets, Christine."

"That doesn't answer my question." I said with a smile. "But all right, if you would rather keep your engineering feats to yourself, that's fine."

Erik reached out a hand to help me up, and I took it, letting him pull me to my feet. I met his gaze with mine, holding it for a long, silent moment, before finally letting go of his hand.

"Thank you for letting me stay here last night, Erik." I said softly.

"It was my pleasure, Christine. You know that my house is always open to you."

I stared at Erik for a long moment, touched. I highly doubted that he'd ever said anything like that to anyone else before.

"I… Thank you…" I whispered.

I realized just how close together we were standing, and I subconsciously leaned in a bit more, looking up into Erik's dark eyes. I heard his breathing speed up a bit as he looked at me for an unbearably long moment… and then he turned his head away.

"You must be hungry, Christine. Would you like something to eat?"

"Yes… if it's not too much trouble…"

"Not at all." he said, excused himself, and left the room.

I looked down at the floor, and, in doing so, noticed that my skirt was hopelessly wrinkled from having slept in it. Carefully, hoping that I would not get lost, I made my way to my room to find something to change into.

As I took another dress out of the armoire, I realized just how strange it was for me to have my own room in Erik's house. I chose to put the implications of that simple fact at the back of my mind, however – after all, it was not as though it were an unpleasant thing.

I dressed quickly, also washing my face and running a brush through my slightly unruly dark curls before pinning them up. I then left my room, closing the door behind me, and went off in search of Erik, hoping to get a better idea of the configuration of his home before I had to leave it again. It seemed like it was one long hallway, with all the rooms simply placed on either side of the passageway. Curious, I poked my head into a few open doors, and I discovered the music room, the room we had been in last night – which I had decided to call a library – and what looked like it might have been Erik's bedroom. I was tempted to go in and explore that one further, but I didn't, knowing that Erik would be furious if I did.

I found him coming towards me in the hallway with a tray in his hands. On it, there was a fresh cup of tea and several pieces of buttered toast. He made a slight movement that I took as meaning that I was to follow him, and I did, back to the library. He set the tray down on the piano bench and looked up at me.

"Erik, aren't you going to have any breakfast?"

"I… no… I do not usually eat very much… But please, don't let that keep you."

"But if you're not going to have anything, I… well, I don't mean to seem rude… Erik, you must be at least a bit hungry. You didn't have anything to eat last night either."

With that, I picked up a piece of toast and held it insistently out to him. For a moment, he looked from me to the toast and back again, almost as though unsure of what to do with it. He finally did take it, and I picked up my own slice of toast and bit into it, suddenly realizing just how hungry I really was. Once I'd finished my toast and tea, I looked up at Erik, who still had half a piece of toast in his hand.

"Thank you." I said. "For… breakfast." Although I hoped that my thank you might cover a large number of other things…

An hour or so passed, spent either in silence or slightly awkward conversation. Finally, Erik asked if I would like to warm up a bit with him before he took me back up to the Opera to prepare for that night's performance.

"Erik, I'd love to." I replied with a smile.

He returned my smile and moved the breakfast tray off the piano bench. I stood beside the bench, looking down at Erik's hands on the keys as he began to play arpeggios for me. I let my voice soar over the notes that Erik played for me, higher and higher until I felt that he was helping me reach the stars. He continued with simple exercises for a bit, occasionally correcting me, and, finally, he began to sing with me once again. It had been so long, too long since he last sang with me…

The lesson was over far too soon. But when it was, Erik stood up and smiled at me.

"Come. I'll take you back to your dressing room."

It was several hours before I had to arrive at the Opera before the start of the performance, and I wanted to ask if I could stay until then, but I didn't.

Once I was back in my dressing room, Erik bowed slightly and was about to leave.

"I shall see you during the performance, then."

"Erik, you mustn't!" I cried, my eyes suddenly wide with fright. "They might see you!"

"No one will see me, Christine."

"Please, Erik, don't take that chance! What if they _did_ see you… They wanted to kill you last time!"

Erik looked at me in silence for a minute or two, as though contemplating what I said.

"As you wish, Christine. But I _will_ be waiting for you here afterwards."

My face lit up at the idea. Erik smiled a little at me and went back through the mirror, closing it behind him.

----------------

That night's performance was considerably better than the previous one, with the sole exception being Henri having trouble with the staircase again without Erik there to help him. During intermission, I caught Meg's eye backstage, and she grinned at me. I couldn't help but smile back.

"Enjoy yourself last night?" Meg joked, walking over to me.

"Meg!" I scolded, ruining the effect by laughing. We then both left the stage to change for the next act.

As I was heading back to my dressing room after the last curtain call, eager to meet Erik, Raoul cornered me.

"What are you doing here again, Raoul? And you know you're not really allowed in the wings." I said with a resigned sigh.

"I came to see you. You were wonderful, as always."

"Thank you, Raoul, but I really must be going…"

I tried to walk around Raoul and towards the door, but he grabbed me around the waist, effectively halting me.

"Let go of me!" I snapped, although not loud enough to cause a scene.

"Christine, please, can't you understand? I love you!" he said quietly, and he tried to kiss me.

Repulsed, I shoved Raoul away from me.

"Good evening, Monsieur." I said curtly before waltzing around him and making my way as quickly as I could through the crowds backstage.

I closed my dressing room door with a bang and locked it behind me. Leaning up against the door, I shuddered. That had been _far_ too close for comfort.

"Christine? Are you all right?"

It was Erik's voice coming though the mirror.

"I… yes, I'm fine." I answered shakily, not wanting to anger him by telling him about Raoul. "I… I think I could just use some fresh air, that's all…"

Erik did not reply right away, as though he were thinking.

"Change out of your costume, Christine, and wear your cloak. I will be back momentarily."

Erik fell silent, and I presumed that he had left so that I could change. I did, quickly, wondering what Erik was planning.

Twenty minutes later, when the crowds in the hallway outside had almost vanished completely, Erik led me out of my dressing room and towards the stairs backstage, careful to keep the masked side of his face in the shadows. It became apparent after a few minutes of climbing the little winding stairways that Erik was taking me up to the roof. I was rather surprised; I would have thought that the roof would not hold pleasant memories for Erik… but perhaps I could right that at last.

It was a cloudless night with a bright full moon. It seemed to have snowed lightly the night before, and the soft white powder crunched slightly beneath our feet. I realized that it was the first time that I could actually hear Erik's footsteps. Both of us stared up at the bright, starry night sky, not looking at each other, not speaking, for what seemed an eternity.

"How was the performance?" he asked.

"It went very well, I think. I… I'm sorry to have told to keep you away from it… I know how much you like to watch…"

"No, Christine, I understand. Actually, I am grateful that you… that you do not want anyone to find me. There are so few people in this world who hold my best interests at heart…"

He fell silent, and I could not think of anything to say. Erik very rarely said anything like that…

I looked out over the roof of the Opera, down to the roofs beneath me and the sky above. The noise from the few carriages still in the street below couldn't be heard up here; in fact, the only noise I could hear was the soft rush of the light wind as it blew past. I shivered suddenly – my cloak was rather thin, and it was a bit cold up on the roof. Wordlessly, Erik took the corner of his own cloak in his hand and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I leaned into him, pressing against his side, no longer cold in the slightest. Still looking up at the sky, I began to sing softly:

"_Moonlight,_

_Turn your face to the moonlight,_

_Let your memory lead you,_

_Open up, enter in…_

_If you find there the meaning of what happiness is,_

_Then a new life will begin…_"

When I fell silent, Erik stepped away from me a bit and turned to face me.

"I can't let them fire you, Christine… You must tell them."

"Erik, I couldn't! I _can't_ do that to you!" I cried.

"You… you would give up that which you love most… for me?"

I smiled and gave a small laugh.

"Erik, I'm afraid you've misjudged me. Singing is not what I love most. 'That which I love most'… is _you_."

Erik stared at me in complete disbelief.

"I… you… you can't mean that, Christine…"

"Of course I do, Erik, although I'm not surprised you don't believe me. After everything I've done… I've made so many mistakes these past few months, Erik, and I do not doubt that I will regret them for the rest of my life. How could I have been so foolish as to be afraid of you? I was wrong, I know that now. I know… I know that you are not the Angel of Music, but… you are _my_ angel, Erik. You know me better than anyone else does… perhaps better than I know myself… And, you may be just a man, Erik, but to me, you _are_ Heaven-sent. I love you."

Erik said nothing. Instead, he reached out a tentative hand to my face. He brushed a stray curl out of my eyes, his fingers lingering on my cheek. Then, softly, he moved his hand down my neck, letting it rest on my shoulder. I shivered again, although not from the cold this time. I tilted my head up to meet his eyes, and suddenly it was as though a barrier had broken. Erik leaned down and kissed me, and his arms went around my waist, pulling me close to him. I held him to me just as tightly, and I never wanted to let him go.

It was Erik who pulled back first. I took a small step backwards, breathing hard, pressing my hands into my flushed cheeks. I felt somehow almost feverish, despite the cold.

"I… I'm sorry… It's just… I've never… I haven't…" I stammered, trying to explain my slightly awkward behavior.

"No," Erik whispered; he sounded just as breathless as I was. He reached out and pulled me gently back into his embrace; I leaned my head against his shoulder, relishing his closeness.

"Neither have I."

-----------------------

A/N: Anybody guessed it? The song I used was not, actually, a reworked version of "Memory" from ALW's _Cats_. It's the version that Jemima sings... and I really liked it when I heard it. If you like dance-y, jazzy shows, I suggest you watch the video.

For your general information, since school has started, that means everything else as well. Ballet on Mondays, ballet on Tuesdays, jazz on Wednesdays, zomgIcanBREATHE on Thursdays, and voice lessons Fridays. Oh yeah, and then there's the play when it comes round too. AND homework. So, I'll probably only be posting on weekends now. Sorry!

So, to tide you over, I'm going to do some shameless advertising! I am about to post (as in, five minutes from now) another E/C fic I'm working on called "Love the Stars." It's much more Leroux-y in style, I think. (HDK, I really think you'll enjoy this one.) Why am I writing that and not this? Simple - at present, I'm working on the ending for this fic. And I HATE conclusions. It's a mutual feeling, I assure you. So, if you have a moment, stop over at my other stories and give them a look. Thanks for reading! And please review! I have a feeling I'm going to really start needing the pick-me-up. --Kyrie


	20. Children of Vain Fantasy

A/N: Thank you to **HDKingsbury** and **LonesomeGurlAngelofDeath** for their kind reviews! You two are awesome! And thanks to all my other readers. I know you're out there - this story now has 2,647 hits! This is for my freshman English teacher - I've used her favorite quote from "Romeo and Juliet" in here. See if you can pick it out!

And now, without (much) further ado... more fluff! Except this time, it's Erik POV fluff! Hooray! There's a lot of song in this chapter as well. Sorry 'bout that. It just seemed to present itself... Well, enjoy!

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Chapter 20: Children of Vain Fantasy

_Laughter… Laughter, and screams… Everywhere, all around him… So many people laughing, jeering, cursing… His screams… Bars… Four walls of bars… No way to escape from the man behind him… The man kicking him, whipping him…Cutting across old scars, across barely healed wounds… creating new ones…_

Erik jerked awake with a yell, his hands creating a loud cacophony of sound on the piano keys. He did not release the keyboard and silence the discord; rather, he gripped the ivory keys until his knuckles turned white, breathing as though he had just run from the cellars to the roof and back again.

"Dreams… just… just dreaming again… damned dreams…"

Why, then, did it always seem so real? Why could he still hear the jeering of the crowd ringing in his ears, still feel the lash across his back and shoulders… why?

"I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air And more inconstant than the wind…"

No… no, he'd best not think about the nightmare at all… Christine… he could think of Christine…

He was still unable to believe what had happened that night. Still completely unable to grasp that it had _not_ been a dream, that it had been _real_…

She had come back to her dressing room after the performance looking upset; she had locked her door and leaned up against it, shaking, closing her eyes as she tried to calm herself. He had asked if she was all right… and had brought her up to the roof for some fresh air…

It hadn't been the performance that had bothered her, it seemed. When he asked, she had said that it went well, that she was sorry that she had had to keep him from seeing it. In truth, he didn't mind her telling him what to do. The fact that someone cared so much whether he lived or died was new to him, fascinating. She sang quietly to the sky… her sweet, clear voice nearly brought him to tears. Those fools were making her choose between her art and… and him? Her choice seemed clear.

"I can't let them fire you, Christine… You must tell them."

"Erik, I couldn't! I _can't_ do that to you!" she had cried, sounding almost shocked that he thought her capable of doing such a thing.

The implications of what she said were not lost on Erik, and he had stared at her for a long moment, stunned. Would she really…?

"You… you would give up that which you love most… for me?"

She had laughed then, with that lovely little smile… And then she said the thing that had shocked Erik most: she told him she loved him.

Erik got up from the piano bench and went to stoke the dying fire. It was so unfathomable… He had loved Christine for so long, hoping only to have her trust him, to think of him as a person rather than an animal… and she said she loved him. Him. And he had kissed her again, held her in his arms again, like he had so wanted to… And she had _returned_ his affections! Never, never in his life had another person touched him even in simple friendship, and now…

Erik felt almost lightheaded at the thought, and he sat back down at the piano. He had not wanted to keep her awake by composing any more that night, but she'd said she did not mind, that she would probably even sleep better if she heard his music, the music she loved. She understood him so completely that it was almost startling. She was the only one ever to care…

He blinked suddenly, then, in an abrupt flurry of movement, he grabbed several sheets of blank music paper from the top of the piano and filled his pen with ink. It had been quite some time since a song had seized him as completely as it just had… But the notes, chords and words just tumbled forth from his mind to the keys to the paper like a stream in spring… As his fingers scrambled over the keyboard and notes seemed to explode from the pen onto the staff lines of the pages, he sang the words softly to himself, stopping occasionally to mark those down as well. Never before had he written so personal a song…

"_Shamed into solitude,_

_Shunned by the multitude,_

_I learned to listen_

_In my dark, my heart heard music_…"

He had been an outcast, regarded as a monster, an inhuman creature incapable of intelligence or feeling… let alone beauty… His music had been his sole companion for years… _No one would listen_… An outcast, until…

"_Then at last, a voice in the gloom_

_Seemed to cry 'I hear you!_

_I hear your fears,_

_Your torment and your tears'_…"

Once he had finished the song and the chords were arranged to his satisfaction, he began to play it again, singing a bit louder, so completely absorbed in it that he did not hear the door open behind him, nor see the person who opened it until she began to sing…

"_I'll cease your loneliness;_

_Forget the emptiness._

_I swear to listen_

_All of my life,_

_Hear as my Angel sings_…"

Erik looked up to see Christine standing in the doorway, the soft light from the fire shining on the tears running down her cheeks.

"That was beautiful, Erik." she whispered.

She sniffed, raised her hand to wipe at her eyes… then strode quickly forward and threw her arms around him. He touched her soft russet curls gently, glad when she raised her tearstained face up towards him and smiled.

"I believe you are the first person to connect the word 'beautiful' and my name into the same sentence, Christine." he said quietly.

"Then everyone else is a fool." she replied firmly.

Erik laughed and held her tightly.

"I'm glad you think so, my dear."

Christine leaned her head on his shoulder and sang again, more to herself than anything else.

"_I swear to listen_

_All of my life,_

_Hear as my Angel sings_…"

"Christine… do you mean that?" Erik asked tentatively, suddenly realizing exactly what she was saying.

"Of course I do." she replied softly.

She looked away for a moment, as though unsure she should do what she wanted to, then reached up and kissed him for the second time that night.

Erik stiffened for a moment, surprised by her sudden boldness. But soon he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a nearly suffocating embrace. He had to exercise all the self-control he possessed to keep his hands still. When she finally pulled away, his head spun wildly.

"Oh, Christine…" he whispered.

He reached out a hand towards her hesitantly, his hand settling gently on her shoulder. Growing bolder, he allowed his thumb to brush against her collarbone. Christine closed her eyes and shivered, tilting her head back ever so slightly, as though willing him to continue… but instead he straightened up and drew his hand away. She opened her eyes and looked at him almost sadly…

"You should get back to sleep, Christine."

"I'm not tired, Erik… I doubt I could get back to sleep for a while. May I… stay here with you?"

"If that is what you want, of course." Erik replied, resisting the urge to touch her again. "How is it that you came to be awake at such an ungodly hour?" Yes, ungodly. That described his nighttime hours quite well; described anything about him well, really.

"I… I heard you scream. I came to make sure that you were all right. When I heard you playing… Erik, that song… Did you just compose that? Just now?"

"Yes."

"I thought so…" she trailed off and stared calculatingly at him for a long moment. "What were you dreaming about?" she asked suddenly.

Erik instantly drew back, subconsciously putting an extra few inches between him and Christine.

"What makes you think I was dreaming anything at all?"

"The way you screamed earlier, Erik. I could almost _feel_ the pain in it… And the way you recoiled when I asked." she added quietly, lowering her eyes.

Erik felt his guard drop slightly in spite of himself, and he looked away from her, turning his head so that the masked side of his face was towards her.

"There are things about me that I don't want you to know, Christine. I… I am not the man I was then… And I do not wish to frighten you with the cruelty of mankind…"

"Erik…" Christine said gently.

He didn't answer. Instead, he felt Christine put a hand on his arm reassuringly. She scooted over to sit beside him and slid her arm around his shoulders.

"It's all right, Erik. If… if you want to tell someone… you can tell me. I'll understand… and perhaps it will help a little…"

"I'm not sure you will understand, Christine."

"Erik, you can trust me. It's all right, really – anything you might say won't change the way I feel… I love you. I always will."

Christine's words were doing very strange things to Erik. Trust…? Did he even know how to do that? And those three little words again, 'I love you'… Only in his wildest dreams had he even allowed himself to think of the possibility that Christine might ever say that to him. And yet here she was, her arm around him, sitting close to him there in the dark in his underground home… telling him exactly what he hadn't dared hope to hear. Yes… yes if there was anyone in that world that he could trust, it was his Christine.

"You… don't have to tell me… if you don't want to." she said quietly.

"No… I think you deserve to know, Christine."

And so he told her. Everything. About the fair and the beatings like the one that had woken him that night. About the things he had seen and done in Persia. How his parents couldn't bear the sight of him: his first memory had been of a mask being shoved onto his face. How he had never known friendship, or compassion… love…

"Until I first heard you sing, Christine. Even before you had ever spoken to me, or I to you… It was I who arranged for you to have your dressing room, so I could teach you, and I could hope that you would… I… I suppose you'll wonder about Adele Giry. She was the first not to run from me, but she has never seen me the way you do. To her, I am a ghost, someone to be respected… to you, it seems, I am a human… Someone to love…"

He had not been able to bring himself to look at her as he had confessed everything, but once he had finished, he couldn't bear _not_ to look at her. He had to know what she thought; would she take back her words now? But as he turned to look at her, he saw that there were tears streaming down her cheeks again, and that there was pity, compassion, _love_, even, shining there in her eyes.

"Oh, my angel…" she choked. "What has the world done to you…?"

She threw her arms around him, giving Erik the first comforting hug he'd ever received in his life.

"It all seems a dream now, compared to this." He whispered.

She raised her head and smiled, touching his unmasked cheek gently. It was only then that he realized that Christine's was not the only tearstained face. How long had it been since he had allowed himself to cry…?

He pulled Christine tightly into his arms, and as he did, the words of his song came back to him, and he sang softly to his light, his savior, his Christine:

"_For at last, a voice in the gloom_

_Seemed to cry 'I hear you!_

_I hear your fears,_

_Your torment and your tears'_…"

Christine met his dark eyes with her blue ones and added her words to his song:

"_I'll cease your loneliness;_

_Forget the emptiness._

_I swear to listen_

_All of my life,_

_Hear as my Angel sings_…"

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A/N: Yes, I did rework that one verse. I'm rather proud of it, actually, since I am miserable at poetry. For those of you not familiar with the song, it is "No One Would Listen," a deleted scene from the 2004 movie. To my mind, the concept of the scene itself (the scene, not the song, mind) is slightly ridiculous. The song I find slightly amusing. Gerard Butler is a baritone. He learned to sing specifically for the role of the Phantom. So, naturally, his vocal range is not very good. (I was cowering during his "Music of the Night.") This song, however, is to the same tune as "Learn to be Lonely", and is, therefore, lower. So, at least in my opinion, they cut the scene in which their Phantom sounded best out of the movie. Quite amusing.

Next update will be sometime next weekend, probably, unless I get light homework. I start dance classes tomorrow - ballet after a month off... Wish me luck! --Kyrie


	21. A Very Close Encounter

A/N: I know I said this weekend, but hey, I'm sure you don't mind. This is a present for BB of **Kinetic Asparagus**, who caught up on the _entire_ story and left me _twenty_ reviews! You are wonderful, man! Thanks also to **HDKingsbury**, **LonesomeGurlAngelofDeath**, and **Truth Questor** for their reviews!

The song in this chapter is called "I Will Never Leave You." It is from "Side Show", book and lyrics by Bill Russel, music by Henry Krieger. For those of you who know the show, yes, it is a duet between the two sisters, but I just thought it fit perfectly. I do that a lot, as you've probably noticed. Another cool thing about side show - Hugh Panaro was in it! He is possibly my favorite Phantom.

This chapter is probably a little conceptually wierd, but it's what my brain gave me, and my beta/muse/friend Christine didn't naysay it, so here it is.

I know, I know. I promised you two chapters at once when we passed 60 reviews. Well, thanks to Kinetic Asparagus, I've now got 80 reviews! (And 3,000 hits as well!) But I really must get to my homework. Which is upstairs. I am currently downstairs. And once I get UP those stairs, I doubt I'll be wanting to come back DOWN them for a while. Stairs HURT! Or rather, stairs after two ballet classes hurt. Well, enjoy! I'm also going to say one other thing: _muahahahahahaha! _

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Chapter 21: A Very Close Encounter

I hadn't left the Opera house for three days now. I had just gone to Erik's house on the lake after the performances, and I was beginning to think of it as home as well. If Madame Giry knew what I was doing, I doubted that I would ever hear the end of it. True, it was extremely improper for me to stay with him… and yet, I found that I didn't really care.

That afternoon, however, I had returned to ground level long before I had to be there for the performance to retrieve something from my flat. Exactly what I was going to retrieve left my head the moment I saw Raoul walk in, four other men with him. I hid around the corner as they strode into the managers' office and shut the door behind them. Those men had not looked like a good sign to me, and all I could think of was another ghost hunt…

After a moment, which I spent trying to get my hands to stop shaking, I crept over to the office door and put my head as close to it as I could. What I heard chilled me to the bone.

"… why you asked me to contact them, but…" Raoul's voice said. I admit, I was relieved to hear that he didn't have any part in this latest escapade… yet.

"Yes, Richard, I thought we were going to have Mademoiselle Daaé lead us to this 'O.G.' fellow."

"I want this Phantom dealt with as soon as possible. She's taking too long, Gilles, and I'm beginning to suspect that she won't tell us at all. Half of those ridiculous stories the _petite rats_ seem so fond of certainly do not make her a victim of this Phantom; his lover would perhaps be more accurate…"

I felt myself blush furiously, and heard Raoul cough.

"Well, then she'll undoubtedly know where he is now…"

"And she'll undoubtedly refuse to tell you." Raoul cut in sharply, sounding enraged at having to admit it. "So that's what you want this lot for. You want them to go down there and search the basements for him."

"Yes, exactly. And I want you to show them the way, Monsieur le Vicomte."

I could almost picture Raoul and André staring at Firmin with their mouths hanging open in the silence that followed.

"Richard Firmin, have you gone completely mad?" André cried suddenly.

"No, I don't believe I have. Is it so awful to ask the help of the man who perhaps holds the largest grudge against this Phantom?"

I couldn't listen any more. I tore myself away from the door and ran as fast as my skirts and corset would allow back to my dressing room. My thoughts beat out a steady rhythm in my head: _Must warn Erik, must warn Erik, must warn Erik_…

I pulled the door of my dressing room shut behind me and locked it. Poking my head tentatively through the doorway to the tunnels, I let my eyes adjust to the near-blackness as I called out to Erik.

"Erik? Are you there, _mon ange_? Erik! Please, Erik… they're coming!"

It wasn't long before I heard Erik's voice echoing back up the passageway. It had only been a few minutes since I'd left him in my dressing room.

"Christine…? I thought you were going back to your flat…"

"I was, but I saw Raoul come in… I overheard him talking to the managers… they've hired men to search the lower levels for you!"

Erik was soon standing in front of me in my dressing room, holding out his hand to me.

"We'd best not discuss anything here; someone might overhear _us_."

I caught Erik's brief smile – was he actually _teasing_ me? – but I was too preoccupied with what I had heard to smile back.

Once we had reached the house by the lake again, I recounted everything I'd heard.

"I know I should have stayed longer to see whether or not Raoul agreed, what they were planning… I'm sorry, Erik, but I just couldn't. I couldn't stand there and listen them talk about you like that…"

"Thank you." Erik whispered.

I nearly asked, "For what?" But I already knew the answer: for wanting to defend him.

"You're welcome, Erik." I replied with a smile.

"Still, we do seem to be truly pressed for time now. The problem is how to let you keep your job while keeping me away from the managers."

"Erik, you know I can find a position elsewhere if I must. I would miss the Girys, but all that really matters to me is that you're safe. In fact, I ought to simply leave now…"

Erik simply looked at me for a long moment before replying.

"I know you would, but I do not want you to have to do that on my account… And it still leaves the new dilemma of this fresh round of ghost hunters. I doubt your resignation will do anything to impede them."

Both of us fell silent for a moment, thinking hard. Suddenly a solution, a temporary one at least, presented itself to me. It would keep Erik out of harm's way while we tried to figure out what to do about the managers… but Madame Giry most certainly would kill me for even thinking of it. Still, it was better than any alternatives that came to mind.

"Erik…" I began tentatively, "You… you could stay with me for a bit…"

"Christine!" he said, looking surprised.

"I know it isn't really proper at all, but… they wouldn't be able to find you that way. You would be safe until we can think of a better solution."

Erik stared at me for a very long time, as though considering my offer very carefully; perhaps he was even afraid – if that word ever applied to him – of agreeing to it.

"It wouldn't bother me at all, Erik, if that's what you're worried about. In fact, I would quite like it…"

"Well, then, I can hardly refuse, can I?" he said with a smile.

--------------

An hour later, I had helped Erik to evacuate most of his things to the main room of my flat. His easily portable things, at least; he was quite put-out to have to leave his instruments behind. I thought that the instruments were not what was really bothering him. It was doubtful that he had been outside in the daylight for years, and there were quite a few people on the streets. He kept close to the buildings on the side of the street whenever possible, and he kept his face hidden in the shadow of his fedora hat.

"I'm sorry, Erik." I said softly as we climbed the stairs to my flat for the last time that afternoon.

"What for?"

"I hadn't thought about all those people outside… I know how much you hate to be seen."

"Yes… well, the way I see it, it was brave the streets of daytime Paris or risk running into those men you saw and a very angry Vicomte. It was the better of two evils, you might say."

I smiled and put my hand on Erik's shoulder. As soon as we were inside my apartment and the door had closed, he slid his arm around my waist, and I leaned against his side, my head resting on his shoulder.

"You shouldn't be apologizing at all, Christine. I should be thanking you. For letting me stay here."

"Dragged you here is more like it." I replied with a laugh. "I've stayed with you quite a few times… it's the least I can do to return the favor now. And like I've said, it's not as though I don't enjoy your company."

In spite of that, it was still an extremely awkward situation. I knew that Erik didn't really want to be there – he wanted to be back in the solitude of his own house. I also didn't have very much space. We fit Erik's things – mostly his music, some clothes, and a few necessities – anywhere we could, and I made a sort of makeshift pallet for him out of my two extra blankets and one we had thought to bring from the house by the lake.

Suddenly, there was a knock at my door. I looked over to Erik, but he had already vanished from my side to stand in the corner least likely to be noticed from the doorway. I got up slowly and opened the door, slightly relieved to see it was only my landlady.

"Good afternoon, Madame Laurent."

"Same to you, Christine. I don't mean to intrude, but I heard you coming up the stairs, and I haven't seen you for quite some time…"

"Yes, I'm very sorry about that, Madame. It's been so busy at the Opera recently that I found myself falling asleep in my dressing room!" I said cheerfully, praying that she would believe it.

Fortunately, she did. Unfortunately, she noticed the pile of blankets on the floor and Erik's bag behind me.

"What's all this, then?"

"Oh, I'm sorry – didn't I tell you? My brother's come to stay with me for a few days. I hope that isn't a problem…" I improvised quickly, thanking God for giving me acting skills.

"No, no, not at all. Well, I'm glad to see you're back, dear. Good afternoon, then."

Once Madame was gone, I shut the door and bolted it, then turned round to look at Erik.

"That was far too close for comfort." I said with a sigh, though I was smiling.

Erik smiled back, coming out of his corner.

"I hope I am right in assuming that you do not get many visitors."

"No, I don't. The only ones who might visit are the Girys. Madame Giry would simply give me a rather disapproving look, but that's all."

Erik chuckled.

"May I have a seat?"

"You needn't ask, Erik. You live here too, for the time being at least." I sat down beside him on my small sofa. "Now, what are we going to do about Raoul and Messieurs André and Firmin so that you can return to your home?"

"It is quite the puzzle they have set for us, isn't it?"

"I should just leave. I can find work elsewhere… I don't know why I've stayed even this long, after what they've done to you…"

"Christine, you mustn't leave. That would be far too much like giving up."

"Oh?" I asked, raising one eyebrow.

"If you simply left, you would let them think they had won. Why do you think that I stayed at the Opera house after it was all over?"

"I thought it was because you had nowhere else to go."

"Well… yes, that's partially true. But I was also having a private laugh at them. They all thought I was dead – in fact, that they had driven me to my death – and yet there I was, a mere five floors beneath them, fixing the damage to my piano."

I couldn't help but burst into laughter.

We discussed the matter all afternoon, but when it was finally time for me to return to the Opera, we had not come up with a solution. Reluctantly, I said goodbye to Erik and left him in my flat, feeling extremely guilty.

------------------

The performance, once again, went very well, but as the curtain closed I was reminded with a pang how little time I had left, how _Faust_ might very well be my final performance in the Paris Opera House. Luckily, I didn't have long to think about it, as I received two curtain calls.

During the second one, Madame Giry walked towards me onstage and presented me with a single red rose. I knew instantly who it was from, and I had to work hard to keep from looking up at Box Five. Instead I thanked Madame Giry and curtsied again before retreating backstage. I had eyes only for the rose, and I knew I had to find him before anyone else did.

I found Henri first.

"Henri… have you perhaps… seen _anyone_ anywhere tonight?" I asked nervously, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

Henri smiled at me.

"You're quite fond of that fellow, aren't you?" I blushed furiously. "What was that box you said he liked? Box Five? Well, I thought I saw someone moving in there during intermission."

"Thank you!" I cried, and I turned and ran straight off to Erik's box, hoping he would still be there.

The door of the box was closed, but unlocked. As I walked in, I realized with a smile that I was still clutching Erik's rose.

The theater below me was deserted, and at first glance the box appeared to be empty as well. But there, to my left, barely discernable from the shadows themselves, was Erik.

"Thank you for the rose, Erik." I said quietly.

Erik jumped; he had been looking out of the box into the empty auditorium. When he saw me, he smiled and took a step out of the shadows.

"I believe you are the first person to be able to see me like that."

"I'm probably the first person you _want_ to see you."

"Very true." He looked at me standing in front of him, still in my costume, holding his rose tightly. "I know I shouldn't have come to watch, but…"

"I know. I understand, really I do. And I feel horrible, telling you that you shouldn't come, dragging you outside during the day… But if they did find you… I just don't want anything to happen to you, Erik. I honestly don't know what I'd do if you were hurt, or…" I couldn't bring myself to say 'if you were killed.'

"Christine…" Erik said gently, reaching out to wrap his arm around me.

"Don't, Erik, I'll get this awful makeup all over your jacket." I said with a laugh. "I'll go change – wait here, I'll be just a moment."

Twenty minutes later, we left the nearly empty Opera house together and walked back to my flat in the dark, something that Erik didn't mind in the slightest.

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That night, I was awoken by another cry from Erik. My eyes snapped open as his pained yelp drifted in from the other room. I sat up, thinking of what he had told me about his past… it wasn't any wonder that he had such awful nightmares…

Completely forgetting to put my dressing gown on over my nightdress, I got out of bed and went into my front room. Erik was sitting bolt upright, his back to me, and he seemed to be breathing hard. I walked around him and knelt on the floor next to him, putting my hand on his shoulder and looking up at him concernedly. He apparently hadn't heard me come in, for the moment I sat down his right hand shot up to cover his face.

"It's all right, Erik, it's me. You don't have to hide from me." I whispered.

Slowly, he lowered his hand, but he kept the right side of his face turned away from me.

"Another nightmare?" I asked, sensing that I would have to do the talking.

He nodded, still not looking at me, still not saying a word. The muscles of his arm were tense beneath my hand.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Erik remained silent for a long moment, then sighed resignedly.

"Don't leave." he answered, so softly that at first I thought I was mistaken and he hadn't said anything at all.

"Of course I'll stay, Erik."

I felt him relax a little, but I wanted to do something more to help him. I knew how much he loved the sound of my voice… perhaps that would help. I took his hand, lacing my fingers through his, and began to sing softly:

"_I will never leave you,  
I will never go away._ _  
We were meant to share each moment.  
Beside you is where I will stay_…"

A little while later, both of us drifted off to sleep again, with me curled up against Erik's chest. In the morning, however, neither of us said a word about it.

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A day later, we went to the Opera earlier than I needed to be there for the performance so that Erik could get something from his house. It was three days before closing, and I was starting to panic…

We arrived at the Rue Scribe without incident, but when we came to the spot in the wall where there was a secret door into his house, I heard a footstep behind us, and then Erik was suddenly absent from my side…

I whirled around, absolutely horrified to find that Raoul and the four 'guards' the managers had hired had snuck up behind us, and had grabbed Erik. I wondered momentarily how on earth they had known to wait _here_ of all places… they must have searched the basements quite thoroughly to have found the passageway!

I didn't have much time to worry about it, though, because one of the guards hand grabbed Erik's cloak and was hitting him! He tried to twist away, but the man succeeded in catching him hard across the face before Erik got free of his grip… I screamed when I saw that a ring on his finger had cut Erik's unmasked cheek…

"No! No, don't hurt him! No! Stop!" I cried, but no one listened to me; they hit him again.

With a shriek, I threw myself at the man and tried to pry him away from Erik, who was now fighting off all four guards and Raoul as well. I don't even know what I shouted at them, only that my voice had risen about two octaves above my normal speaking voice… The man tossed me roughly away, and I grabbed another shoulder, pulling backwards as hard as I could…

Suddenly, I found that it was Raoul that I was trying to yank away from Erik. I found myself hitting _him_… Raoul looked at me in a very surprised way… Then looked alarmed at something over my shoulder…

The last thing I remember was a blinding pain at the back of my head, Raoul saying 'No, don't…!'… Erik screaming my name…


	22. Noire Nuit

A/N: (singing) It's Friday, it's Friday, it's Friday! TGIF! Now for my usual thank-yous: Thanks very, very much to **HDKingsbury**, **LonesomeGurlAngelofDeath**, and **Kinetic Asparagus** for their reviews! I look forward to hearing from you again! No, LGAoD, I'm not actually 20 or 30. I'm fifteen. I get that a lot, actually - mostly from my voice teacher.

For this chapter, I was actually able to rely a good deal on personal experience. Granted, I got a concussion from falling off a panicking horse (there was a carnival-type thing across the road, and yes, I _was_ wearing a helmet) and I didn't go dashing around Paris afterwards. I could barely see straight afterwards! _Not_ one of my fonder memories. But then, Christine's got a good deal more drive than I do... I expect I would have gone dashing around Paris if I had her motives.

I remember - I promised you a double update. Well, since it's Friday, you're going to get it. There is a plot hole I need to fix in the other chapter, so it won't be up immediately, but rest assured, it's coming! Enjoy!

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Chapter 22: Noire Nuit

I groaned. I was lying somewhere warm and dark, and my head hurt furiously.

"What happened?" I said, although the words came out slightly slurred and sounded more like 'whuhappen?'

"He – that is, the guard – thought you were attacking me and was a bit too enthusiastic to defend me. They have been dismissed; I could not have them attack you again. Don't worry, Christine; your understudy was able to take over this evening."

So I had missed the performance, then. But I didn't really even listen to that – all I could hear was Raoul's voice. It was Raoul. And Erik was gone.

"I don't _care_ about that, you fool!" I snarled, sitting up slowly and realizing that I was back in my own flat.

I got to my feet – a bad idea. The pain in the back of my head flared when I adjusted my position, and the room spun. Raoul reached out quickly and caught me before I fell, but I shoved him away and leaned against the wall instead.

"Get away from me!" I yelled.

Even in the semi-darkness, I could tell that Raoul was taken aback.

"Christine… You should rest, Christine. You're hurt…"

"I'm _fine_. Tell me where he is."

"What?"

"Where is he, for God's sake, where _is_ he!" I cried, a note of desperation edging into my voice in spite of myself.

"Where is who?"

"Raoul, don't be an idiot. You know perfectly where who 'he' is. The Phantom! The Opera Ghost! _Where is he!_"

"I haven't the faintest idea, Christine, and frankly, I don't care. You're safe – that's all that matters."

"Safe? Safe from what, pray tell?"

"From that monster of a man!"

"Monster? He isn't a monster! He never was, never will be a monster! Never!"

"Christine, you aren't acting like yourself. You don't understand. The man is a murderer…"

"No, he is _not_!"

"_What?_ Christine, what sort of lies has he been feeding you? You saw Buquet hanging yourself!"

"His death was an accident, Raoul! And he never killed Piangi!"

"I don't believe it."

I resisted the urge to hit Raoul again then and there. I was quite satisfied when I saw the hint of a bruise on his cheekbone from when I'd slapped him earlier.

"What has he ever done to you, Raoul?"

"He's bewitched you! He's turned you into a lunatic!"

Raoul was not spared another slap that time. I made sure to hit him hard right over the already-existing bruise.

"How dare you say that! I love him, Raoul! I am _not_ a lunatic! I am _not _'bewitched!' I am perfectly, absolutely sane, and keep that in mind when I say this, Monsieur le Vicomte." I snarled, spitting out his title as though it tasted very unpleasant. "The only _monster_ I have ever met is _you_."

Raoul stared at me, shocked at my behavior. I was rather surprised at myself as well… and yet, at the same time, I wasn't. _How _dare_ he say such things about my angel_…

"Christine, have you completely lost your mind?"

"No, I haven't. I think you have. Why won't you simply leave him alone? He's never done anything to hurt you, and he hasn't done anything at the Opera for months! And I know he won't do anything else, either. Because he loves me."

"Christine, that's a lie."

"IT IS _NOT_!" I cried furiously. The mere thought nearly tore me in two. Sensing that I was on the verge of tears, I thought it best to end the argument while I was still able to shout. "Get out, Raoul. Go home."

"I'm not leaving you, Christine."

"Oh, yes you are. This is _my_ flat, and I can tell you to leave it. Which I am doing. Leave. Now."

"Christine…"

I glared at him, silencing him quickly. The impertinence of it!

"Fine, have it your way. Good night, Christine."

"Adieu, monsieur." I said stiffly, knowing full well that I had just permanently dismissed him. That had been my intent.

Raoul, who had almost gotten to the door, turned round and stared at me.

"Yes, you heard correctly. _Adieu, monsieur_." I repeated, putting a cold emphasis on the last two words.

Dejectedly, Raoul turned and walked out the door. The moment he was gone, I sank back onto my bed, my head pounding. I knew that I probably should go back to sleep, but I couldn't. I had to find Erik. I had to know if he was all right. Raoul said they hadn't captured him, and if Raoul was anything, it was truthful. I knew he hadn't lied to me. And so I got up again, clutching the wall as the room continued to spin, and pulled my cloak around my shoulders. As I started down the stairs, I heard the distant clock tower toll out the hour – it was one in the morning. I didn't care.

The streets were extremely dark, and it took a few moments for my eyes to adjust enough to be able to see where I was going. As I walked through the shadowy, deserted streets, my pace seemed to quicken on its own; my heart was racing, I felt as though I couldn't breathe properly. My eyes darted from one shadow to the next, and I kept thinking that something – or someone – far less pleasant than Erik might step out of them. By the time I reached the Opera, I was terrified.

And I had no idea what to do. I spent nearly half an hour trying to find Erik's secret door on the Rue Scribe to no avail. I tried the front doors, any door I could find, but they were all locked. I was nearly at my wit's end, ready to fall to the ground and sob on the steps of the grand Paris Opera, but I suddenly thought of Madame Giry. Perhaps she would know…

I turned and set off for her apartment, my head pounding with each throbbing heartbeat. It did occur to me that it was nearly two a.m., but I thought Madame Giry would forgive me. She seemed completely shocked to see me at her door when she finally opened it, looking very sleepy.

"Christine! What on earth are you doing here at this hour of the night? Here, come in, sit down. You don't look well… Why were you not at the performance this evening?"

I followed Madame Giry into her apartment and sat down, hurriedly explaining everything in a hushed tone, although neglecting to mention that it still felt as though there was a fireworks display going on in my head.

"So, why have you appeared at my door at two in the morning, Christine?"

"Madame Giry, I can't get in. I can't get in to the Opera house. Please, please tell me you have a key, know a way in, _something_. I have to find Erik, I've got to find him! I have to make sure he's all right!" My voice was laced heavily with panic in spite of myself, and I felt my eyes fill with tears.

She looked at me strangely for what seemed a very long time, then told me to wait for just a moment. It seemed that she did have a key – I had had a feeling she might… She handed the small metal key to me and told me that it opened the rightmost rear door, and that I was to be careful. I threw my arms around her and thanked her profusely before darting out the door and back to the Opera again.

The inside of the Opera at night was perhaps more frightening than the streets. I could hardly see my hand in front of my face, and it was only by a stroke of extraordinary luck that I was able to find my dressing room. There I fumbled to light a candle and plunged once again into the blackness of the tunnels. By some miracle I managed to make it to Erik's house on the lake without falling _into_ the lake again, thank God. I opened the door, only to find more darkness.

"Erik?" I said quietly. Oh, God, what if he wasn't there? What if he hadn't made it back? What if he was…

"Erik! Angel! Are you there? Please, Erik, please, answer me!"

I searched his entire house, and I found nothing. He wasn't there. Exhausted and terrified, I sank to the floor in the long hallway and sobbed into my hands. I had no idea where to find him, no idea at all, and I couldn't think straight any more.

"Oh, Erik, please, please come back… I need you… I love you…"

I had no idea how long I sat there and cried, but all of a sudden I heard a very familiar voice towards the other end of the hallway, near the entrance to the house.

"Christine, is that you? I've been looking everywhere for you…"

"Erik?" I said, raising my head.

It wasn't long before I could see him, and I shot to my feet and ran to him.

Another bad idea. When I reached him, I nearly collapsed from dizziness and the shocking jolt of pain at the back of my head. He grabbed me quickly, steadying me against him, and I buried my face in his chest, my arms tight around him, waiting for the world to stop spinning so disconcertingly…

"Christine, are you all right?"

"Just… dizzy… that man hit the back of my head…"

I felt Erik raise his hand and pull back my hair to try and find the injury.

"Erik, don't…" My words were transformed into a small squeak of pain as his fingers inadvertently touched the swollen bruise just above and behind my left ear.

"Christine, I'm sorry… I didn't mean to hurt you…" Erik stammered quickly, sounding horrified.

"I know you didn't… it isn't your fault…" I said, my voice still slightly higher-pitched than normal.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

I looked up at Erik and saw love and concern in his eyes. I smiled weakly.

"Don't leave."

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A/N: Ah, yes. Recurring lines are wonderful. Well, I must go work on finishing this story for you! Believe it or not, there's only three more chapters. That double update chapter will be coming soon, promise! Thanks for reading! --Kyrie


	23. A Lull in the Storm

A/N: Right, here is that promised chapter! Wow, I certainly am the master of procrastination, eh? I hope I fixed that plot hole there... And, shockingly, I have nothing else to say, except that this is my third original chapter title in a row. Woot! Well, enjoy!

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Chapter 23: A Lull in the Storm

Erik helped me back to my flat a little while later. It was nearly three in the morning now, perhaps later, and I was exhausted. And extremely glad of the arm that Erik had wrapped around my waist to steady me. I leaned heavily against him as we walked, glad that the persistent ache was fading slightly and the ground had stopped moving… or perhaps it was just because Erik was holding me so close, both to keep me from falling and because we both simply wanted that closeness. The pressing darkness of the empty streets that had terrified me so much before seemed insignificant with him there. I felt completely safe.

I changed quickly into my nightdress and went back into my front room to find that Erik was heading towards the door.

"Where are you going, Erik?" I asked.

He turned and smiled softly at me.

"You need to rest, Christine. You're hurt, and they'll need you tomorrow night."

He took me back into my bedroom, where we both sat down on my bed.

"When you said that you were looking for me… Erik, why didn't you just come here?"

"I did, Christine, twice. You weren't here."

"I wasn't?" I asked, surprised. Where could Raoul have taken me in that state?

"No. I looked for you everywhere I could think of – the Opera house, the hospital… I couldn't find you anywhere."

"I was here when I came round… Raoul must have taken me to a doctor before he brought me back here." I reached up tentatively to touch the bruise to see if the swelling had gone down at all and winced. "What happened after I… fell?"

"How much do you remember?"

"Not much." I said, shaking my head. "I remember that they attacked you – God only knows how they found you – and that I tried to defend you… I'm sorry, Erik, I should have done more…"

Erik put his arms around me and kissed the top of my head gently.

"You did what you could, Christine, and for that, I am eternally grateful."

I smiled and took his hand.

"All I can remember of what happened to me is that I hit Raoul… I remember him saying 'No, don't…!' I remember you calling my name… and I remember something hurting quite a lot." I smiled at the understatement. "I have no idea what happened, or what they did to you… Raoul told me that one of the 'guards' hit me because they thought I was attacking him."

"He was here?"

"Yes. He stayed with me until I woke up. Poor Raoul… I shouted at him quite a bit."

"You did?" Erik asked, sounding very surprised.

"Yes. The first thing I wanted to know was where you were, if you were all right. I was so afraid that they might have… But he didn't tell me, pretended he didn't know what I was talking about. Erik, he said such terrible things about you! That he didn't care about where you were then or if you were even alive because I was safe from you. That you had bewitched me and turned me into a lunatic… He called you a monster."

Erik moved away slightly.

"I am a monster, Christine. A demon of the night. I should not be here, should not be holding you like this. I do not deserve an angel like you, Christine."

"Erik, don't talk like that! You're not a monster, you are a man. The man I love, remember?" I said, smiling up at him.

Erik still somehow looked surprised. I shook my head slightly, then reached up and kissed him gently.

"How many times must I tell you?" I said quietly when I pulled away.

Erik wrapped me tightly in his arms again, and I leaned against his shoulder with a sigh.

"What happened this afternoon, Erik? Please tell me what it is that I can't remember."

"Right after you hit the boy, shouting things at him I never thought I'd hear you say, one of those… _guards_ hit you in the back of the head with his fist. The same one whose ring cut me." He indicated the shallow cut on his face. I looked rather anxiously at it for a moment, but he gave me a reassuring smile and continued. "He probably hit you with it too, or else struck you harder than I'd thought. I tried to grab him before he got to you, tried to warn you, but by then it was too late. You're right; I did shout your name. I saw the boy pick you up… I would have brought you back myself, but I couldn't get free of those men in time to reach you. By the time I had rid myself of them, you were gone."

"What happened to… to the guards?"

"Once the boy left, they were not quite so keen to keep up the fight. I believe they were afraid of me." There was something in Erik's voice that plainly stated that he wasn't surprised.

I sighed, burying my face in his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Erik." I said, my voice slightly muffled. "This is all my fault."

"No, Christine. Neither of us is badly hurt; nothing has happened. Don't blame yourself."

He started to get up, but I grabbed his hand.

"Where are you going?" I asked again, a note of fear creeping into my voice this time. I didn't want to lose him again, not even for a minute.

"To return Adele's key." he said simply. "You need to rest, Christine. It's very late."

He let go of my hand and took a few steps towards the door.

"Erik…" I called quickly. He turned a little to look at me, waiting for me to speak. I had meant to tell him to be careful, or something of the like, but I couldn't. "I love you" came out of my mouth instead.

Erik smiled again, that wonderful, kind, angel's smile.

"Perhaps I should return it in the morning." he mused quietly.

I smiled widely up at him as he sat down beside me again. He took me in his arms again and softly, gently, sang me to sleep.

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A/N: Yay, fluff! Unfortunately, chapter 24 will probably not be up this weekend. Possibly not next weekend either. You see, my friend/muse/beta Christine has decided not to check her email anymore, so she's got about six chapters from me sitting in her inbox... I'll probably have to hand it to her in school on Monday. (I have also just discovered that Christine is completely mad. I played her Hugh Panaro's "Music of the Night", Michael Crawford's, and Gerard Butler's. (I call his the sucky version. Sorry if that offends anyone.) And yet she **_still _**doesn't see just how disgustingly _bad _he is! -grumbles loudly-) Sorry, rant done.

Thanks for reading! --Kyrie


	24. Into the Fire

A/N: Drumroll, please! And now, the moment you've all been waiting for... chapter 24! Yay! After the _third_ draft I'd shown her, Christine finally okayed it! A MASSIVE thank you goes out to **BB of Kinetic Asparagus** for beta-ing this chapter and giving me the shove in the right direction that Christine failed to... evil Christine. Thank you SOOOOOO much!

Also, thanks to **HDKingsbury**, **LonesomeGurlAngelofDeath**, and **Kinetic Asparagus** for their reviews! And, of course, thanks to **Nedjmet** for playing so much catch-up and reading ten chapters (and leaving ten reviews!) yesterday. Yay, Nedjmet! Glad to have you back!

Right-o, then. The chapter. I hope you like it - it was bloody hard to write, and, well, I don't think I could make it any better if I tried! Four drafts of a thing will tend to turn you off. Enjoy!

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Chapter 24: Into the Fire

I woke up a few days later shaking with fear. The night before had been the closing performance of _Faust_. It had been an extremely successful show… perhaps my last…

But no, I wasn't going to let that happen. I couldn't. I had to at least try.

And so I walked back to the Paris Opera House, feeling sicker with every step. But I had to try, I _had_ to try…

It seemed that news of my… situation had leaked amongst the cast, because there was a good deal of whispering when I walked onto the stage. I ignored it – if I hadn't, I probably would not have been able to take it and would have turned back around and left – and stood with Meg near center stage, trying to conceal the fact that my hands were shaking and my face was unusually white.

André, Firmin, and Monsieur Reyer, the maestro, entered to inform us of the next opera we would be rehearsing. Before Reyer could even open his mouth, however, Firmin spotted me and grimaced.

"Miss Daaé, I do believe that, as you have failed to comply with the task assigned you, you will have to leave, as we discussed."

Aware that the entire company had their eyes on me, I raised my chin and stared at him defiantly.

"No." I said firmly.

"You refuse to leave?" Firmin replied, looking back at me with disdain. I said nothing.

"So, you will bring him here, then?" André asked, sounding hopeful.

"No." I said again, even more forcefully.

"Miss Daaé…" Firmin began, but André cut him off suddenly.

"Firmin, not here." He muttered, just barely loud enough for me to hear him. "Mademoiselle, if you will accompany us to our office…"

Firmin nodded his assent, and they both turned and left the theater. Nervously, I followed them, catching Meg's eye as I passed the ballet girls. She tried to give me a reassuring smile, but her apprehension was etched into every line of her face. I tried to smile as well, but it turned out more as a sort of grimace.

I followed the managers in silence, trying to look confident while I was really more nervous than any stage fright I had ever experienced. It wasn't just my position I was vying for, it was Erik's life as well. After what seemed half a lifetime, we reached the office, and Firmin shut the door behind me.

"So, Miss Daaé, I am correct in assuming that you are refusing to comply with the terms of our bargain?"

"Bargain?" I put in scathingly. "That was no bargain, Messieurs. I refused to be forced either to leave this theater or give up the whereabouts of this 'Opera Ghost.'"

"Mademoiselle, do not be difficult!" Firmin said, clearly trying very hard to get control of his temper and not doing very well – his face was starting to turn slightly red.

"I seem to recall that there was no reason for me to be involved at all – you hired four men, along with the Vicomte de Chagny, to hunt him out without my knowledge. Don't try to deny it," I added when I saw André open his mouth, "I was there; I was hurt trying to defend him. Can't you simply leave him be?" I snapped, throwing caution to the winds.

"Miss Daaé, be reasonable!" André said; Firmin was now too red in the face to say anything he wouldn't sorely regret. I wondered how long I would be able to keep it up before I was physically forced out.

"I am being quite reasonable. You clearly did not need me at all, so I do not see why I must be involved."

"Whether you see why or not, you are still under our employ, or rather, _were_ under our employ. Kindly remove yourself from this opera house. Now." Firmin fumed.

Another idea suddenly came to mind, one I was sure that André at least would listen to.

"Messieurs, I wouldn't advise that. Perhaps the Ghost…"

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and Raoul pushed it open. He was about to greet André and Firmin when he saw me.

"Christine?" he said, sounding very surprised.

"Do excuse us, Monsieur le Vicomte." André said graciously. "We were just discussing Miss Daaé's…"

"Employment." I added before André could come up with a reasonable excuse for my presence in his office.

Raoul's eyes widened in surprise. He looked almost alarmed… why?

"And might I ask why?" he asked levelly, although I could tell that he was not at all happy about the thought.

"She has been abetting the Phantom, Monsieur. We agreed that either she hand him over to us before the completion of _Faust_ or we would replace her."

"We 'agreed' to nothing. And as you did not need me to begin with, my dismissal seems pointless." I stated matter-of-factly.

"And I believe I might be correct in assuming that a certain Ghost would be much displeased if Miss Daaé was dismissed." Raoul added smoothly.

It took all my self control not to goggle at him. I hadn't expected him to help me – in fact, after the telling-off I'd given him the last time I had spoken to him, I had almost expected him to make my situation worse. I was shocked – why was he helping me? And why was he speaking of Erik that way? He hated the Phantom just as much as the managers… didn't he?

"I beg your pardon, Monsieur le Vicomte, but this matter does not concern you." Firmin said as calmly as he could.

"Please, messieurs, if you would simply hear me out…" I said, suddenly desperate. If a threat about Erik hadn't worked, then Erik must be in far more danger than I was. I was quickly silenced, however.

"I have heard quite enough out of you. We have discussed this already. Miss Daaé, _out_." Firmin said tersely, clearly trying not to explode in front of his patron.

"Very well, then." I said coldly, recognizing that I had lost. "_Adieu_, messieurs."

I turned towards the door, which Raoul had left open, and made to leave. But before I could reach the door, it swung shut with a bang, and when I tried the handle, it wouldn't budge. I thought that I had caught a glimpse of a familiar black cloak before the door slammed, however…

"Well, messieurs, it looks like I _can't_ leave." I said, trying very hard to conceal a smile.

Before either of the managers could say a word, however, an equally familiar voice thundered from the shadows:

"_She stays, Firmin._"

I couldn't help it – my heart leapt at the sound of Erik's voice, and I turned my head to look for him.

"Angel?" I whispered, without knowing I'd spoken aloud.

"Christine…" Raoul said softly, but anything else he might have said was interrupted.

"Angel? Is that what you just called him?" Firmin scoffed, suddenly sounding very close. I looked around just as he grabbed me threateningly by the shoulders, his face inches away from mine. "Well, call your angel here, girl. Call him. Tell the 'angel' to show himself."

I was terrified – what would this man do to me if I refused? Had he gone completely mad?

Suddenly, Firmin was no longer in front of me, and I was held in an entirely different grip. I allowed myself to succumb to my terror at last, burying my face in Erik's chest as his arms wrapped tightly around me.

"Are you all right?" Erik asked softly, so only I could hear.

"Yes." I replied, raising my head and realizing that André was staring at me in complete shock. "You shouldn't be here…"

Erik smiled at me, then released me and turned towards the managers. Firmin was just picking himself up off the floor, but I paid no attention to him. My eyes were fixed on Erik. The moment he had turned away from me, his face contorted into an expression of extreme fury and hatred. I gripped his shoulder, trying to calm him down…

"If you ever touch her again, you will wish that you were never born, Monsieur Firmin." Erik snarled.

So strange, that a voice could change so much in only a moment. He had spoken gently to me, but his voice was suddenly a low, menacing growl. I realized that this was not Erik I was dealing with; it was the Phantom. The violence he had had under control for so long had surfaced again.

"Erik… don't… Erik, it's not worth it…" I whispered. I thought only Erik could hear me…

"So, the beast has a name, does he?" Firmin mocked, very unwisely.

Erik gave an inarticulate growl of loathing and started forward. I held tightly onto his shoulder and managed to hold him back. I turned towards the managers that time, however.

"How dare you speak of him that way!" I cried, furious.

Erik turned to look at me again, and face softened. He seemed to suddenly think of something.

"You know, messieurs, Monsieur le Vicomte is right; it would be very unwise to dismiss Miss Daaé. I would not go so far as to ensure another disaster like the one of last October, but…"

"So you are suggesting that unless we keep Miss Daaé in the company, you will once again wreak utter havoc on this Opera house."

"If you choose to put it that way, yes."

"And you expect André and I to take orders from a creature like you?"

"What gives you the impression that you are any better?" I snapped. Erik looked down at me, rather surprised. "If anyone here has acted like a beast, it would be you, messieurs. He was only trying to help! Had you just listened to him all along, there would not have been any problem! But for your… your pigheadedness…!"

"I will not be spoken to that way!" Firmin roared.

"Miss Daaé, really!" André said, sounding shocked.

"It is no more than you deserve!"

"She does have a point, sirs. I don't suppose that you have any conclusive proof that this Phantom fellow has done anything wrong?" Raoul asked nonchalantly. He really was much better at negotiating than either Erik or I was.

Firmin spluttered incoherently for a long moment; obviously, he did not. I would not be surprised if I learned that he had thrown a good deal of Erik's notes straight into the fire.

"But Monsieur le Vicomte, it was you who proposed the plan to capture him in January!" André cried incredulously.

"A man can see the error of his ways, can he not?"

I couldn't help it – I stared openly at Raoul for a long moment. I hadn't thought he was capable of changing his views so much in such a short time. His motives never had been bad, but he had simply refused to see the truth… did he perhaps understand now, even after what I had said?

I couldn't think long on it, however. I had to return my thoughts to the matter at hand.

"Messieurs, if you'll please just leave him alone…"

"I've heard enough out of you, girl." Firmin said, taking a step towards me and raising his hand to strike me.

I turned my head away just in time, wincing as his hand hit me. My cheek stung, but I was past the point of simply being upset. I was furious. And so, I did something that normally would never have occurred to me – I hit him back.

Erik took advantage of Firmin's shock to step forward and grab Firmin's cravat, nearly hoisting him off the ground by the neck.

"_What did I tell you?_" he snarled.

After what seemed an eternity to me, Erik released him – rather roughly, it was true, but Firmin was unharmed.

"Have you lost your mind, Miss Daaé?" André shouted incredulously. "And you expect us to let you keep your position…?"

He looked helplessly over to Raoul for guidance; Raoul simply shrugged.

"It seemed quite justified to me. I believe you and Monsieur Firmin – especially Monsieur Firmin – are the ones being unreasonable."

"You _have_ all lost your minds!" Firmin growled.

"Perhaps." I said, glaring at both of them, about to simply walk out of the office. But I doubted that Erik would follow me. _That would be far too much like giving up_…

"When Lefévre sold us this accursed Opera, he didn't mention anything about insane performers and deranged ghosts!" André cried, somewhere between anger, fear, and exasperation.

"Have you ever thought that it is _you_, messieurs, who are out of your minds?" I shouted, disregarding the damage it might do to my voice. At this point, I simply wanted to get out as much as I could before Firmin wired the Sûreté.

"And what exactly makes you say that, young lady?"

"You have persecuted an innocent man because of a handful of rumors from the ballet girls! Any sane man would disregard Jammes' hysterics as nothing more than superstition and stories meant to scare the little girls! And any sane man would not have taken on the management of an opera house when he knows _nothing_ about music!"

"Why, you little…" Firmin began, but I cut him off.

"It's true! I would be willing to bet that you're both tone deaf!"

Firmin took a step forward as though to strike me again, but he caught sight of Erik and, for the first time all afternoon, he backed down slightly.

"Mademoiselle Daaé has a point. If I might remind you, who was it that has always truly run this Opera? Whose ignored suggestions have landed you in this position in the first place?" Erik put in calmly.

"With all due respect, Monsieur Ghost, but your suggestions are not exactly of repute." André said haughtily.

"Oh? And how is that? Has following his suggestions ever done any harm? No! In fact, I believe they have helped! It was only after _you_ started ignoring him that things went badly!"

"And why would we want to listen to the rantings of a madman?" Firmin shouted.

"_Because whatever you may believe, this is HIS Opera House!_" I yelled back.

This was insane. I was on the brink of furious tears, and my throat was beginning to hurt from all the shouting. It was a lost cause… I may as well just walk out the door… but I couldn't do that. I couldn't abandon Erik.

"_His_ Opera House?" André said incredulously. "I fail to see that, Mademoiselle."

"It has been his suggestions that have kept the Opera on its feet all these years, kept it the talented establishment that it is. And he helped build it. Were it not for him, we would all be underwater!" It was an exaggeration, but Erik had told me that he had devised the pump system that allowed them to lay the foundations for the Opera.

"She is correct." Erik stated tersely. I could tell that he was beginning to have difficulty keeping his own anger in check. "I perhaps have more right to be here than you. And, as Christine has said, I have taken it upon myself to maintain the quality of the performances in _my_ Opera House. Since you have failed to follow through with that, I shall have to ask you to leave."

I turned round to stare at Erik. I had never expected him to do something like that!

"_What?_" André choked, even more shocked than I was.

"I would like you to leave my Opera House." Erik said coolly, but then his voice changed smoothly to a decidedly menacing tone. "_Now._"

I expected André to fly out the door, dragging Firmin behind him, but Firmin had had enough.

"I will not take orders from madmen like you!" he yelled, then grabbed something from his desk. "This should have ended a long time ago…"

I suddenly realized that the thing in his hand was a letter opener. My God, he had truly lost his mind! He raised it suddenly, and Erik couldn't move, there was a wall behind him… The lethally sharp point flashed in the light from the gas lamps as he swung his hand forward…

"_No!_" I screamed, and, without thinking, threw myself in front of Erik.

I clung to Erik's shoulder a moment later, gritting my teeth in pain. I was lucky – he had failed to stab me as he had wanted to stab Erik, but the point had scored a line of blood across my shoulder…

"My God, Richard!" André cried, grabbing Firmin's arm and wrenching the letter opener from his hand.

"Christine!" Erik cried, dropping to his knees on the floor, holding me tightly in his arms and carefully examining the gash.

"Firmin, man, have you gone mad?" Raoul snapped, outraged. I had forgotten that he was there… "I'm afraid I shall have to wire the Sûreté immediately…"

"No, Raoul, don't!" I interrupted. "Not while Erik's here…"

Raoul looked at me, at Erik and me, for what seemed a long moment before turning back to the managers.

"Then, in that case, I must ask you to relinquish the post of manager to someone in a better state of mental health and that you leave this theater immediately."

"Yes… yes, of course, Monsieur le Vicomte…" André stuttered. "I'm… terribly… terribly… sorry that this… happened."

He was still muttering as he dragged Firmin, who was very, very red in the face, out of the office. They had both lost it, it seemed.

"That's it, then, isn't it?" I asked suddenly, then hissed softly as I jostled my shoulder.

Raoul quickly untied his cravat and handed it to Erik, who quickly folded it and pressed it to my shoulder. The injury was not serious, but it hurt quite a lot…

"Christine, what on earth were you thinking? You could have been killed!" Erik said softly.

"You _would_ have been if I hadn't done that. It doesn't matter, Erik; we're both fine." I sighed, suddenly exhausted from all the shouting. "So… that's it, then?" I repeated.

"Yes, Christine. I do believe they have had enough." Raoul said with a chuckle. "That was quite a performance. Certainly enough to make me want to head for the hills!"

"But… I can… I can stay? And Erik… he's safe?"

"Yes." he replied.

I hardly noticed, though, because I wrapped my arms around Erik's neck and shut my eyes tightly, leaning my head against his shoulder.

"Thank you so much." I whispered

"What for?"

"Don't sound so surprised, Erik! For defending me… and that trick with the doors… that was very clever of you. And Raoul…" I added, raising my head to look at my old friend. "Thank you for standing up for me. And after everything I said… I'm sorry."

Raoul smiled at me.

"I suppose I finally had some sense knocked into me." I blushed, but Raoul laughed. "I deserved it as much as they did, I believe. I've… been thinking, ever since that night you gave me what-for. Perhaps we all should have gone about things differently. You really are a sister to me, little Lotte."

I smiled warmly at his use of my old childhood nickname. I could tell that it hurt him to say it, but his offer of friendship meant quite a lot to me.

"Thank you." I said softly.

"Well, I suppose I had best start looking for a new manager, then. Good afternoon, Christine… Monsieur Erik."

Raoul then left the office as well, closing the door behind him. When I turned round to face Erik again, he was still wearing a slightly startled expression.

"See? There are some good people in this world, Erik."

He nodded, still looking stunned for a moment. He then turned his gaze to me and smiled gently.

"Well, that's it, then. At least, until the next manager…"

"Erik, this next manager won't have any reason to hunt you down. You've changed; you're not the Opera Ghost anymore. You're Erik."

Erik suddenly wrapped his arms around me, and I returned his embrace, leaning my head on his shoulder. We sat there on the floor of the office like that for a very long time, neither of us quite able to believe that it really was over. The ghost hunts, the danger, the constant worry… all were gone.

"Shall we go and bring your things back, then?" I asked suddenly, raising my head. No doubt Erik would want to get back to his house on the lake as soon as possible.

He surprised me, however.

"Maybe in the morning." he said with a grin, and I threw my arms around his neck.

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A/N: So, how'd it go? Please let me know - I need feedback for this chapter! It was HARD! (The homework and after-school stuff didn't help much. They seriously need to add about six hours to the day!) I have yet to write the denouement, but I have a plan for it! I just have to figure out exactly what they're all going to say... and, for the first time in my life, I've already got the conclusion lines worked out! That will be written this weekend (yay, three day weekends!) and posted ASAP, as Christine will OK it in one go if she knows what's good for her...

Hope you liked! Thanks for reading! --Kyrie


	25. Epilogue: The Angel and the Ghost

A/N: (sings) Here it is, the moment you've been waiting for! ... (cough) ... yeah... Anyhoo, this is it! The final chapter! Thanks a lot to **HDKingsbury**, **Kinetic Asparagus**, **LonesomeGurlAngelofDeath**, **Helena**, and **Nedjmet** (thanks also for catching up so fast!) for their excellent reviews!

I really hope you like this chapter. It has been Christine approved... sort of. I've used a song at the end, which I've had in mind as my clincher for _weeks_ (and that _never_ happens, mind) and Christine has labled it as " a very well-known song and an extremely tacky ending. Come up with something better." Well, I happen rather to like it (and there's nothing else in my head as backup) so it stayed. I'll give her one thing - it IS a VERY well-known song. I'd be surprised if you didn't all recognize it instantly... Oh, but it worked so well! Anyway, please forgive me my lack of poetry skills and shameless borrowing, and enjoy!

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Chapter 25: Epilogue; The Angel and the Ghost

_Two months later…_

"Miss Daaé, wait a moment."

I turned around to find Monsieur Debienne, the new manager of the Paris Opera. Monsieur Debienne was by far superior to André and Firmin – he truly knew a good deal about opera, and he was very kind to the entire company, even the _petite rats_ of the ballet and a certain local composer… I smiled and walked over to him, looking up questioningly.

"Yes, monsieur?" I asked politely.

"Will Monsieur Erik be attending the rehearsal this afternoon? I know there are some musical questions Monsieur Reyer has for him, and he will undoubtedly want to have a hand in the blocking…"

I smiled warmly up at Monsieur Debienne for his thoughtfulness. He treated Erik as he would anyone else whose work we were performing. He truly cared about what Erik thought.

"I'm not sure, monsieur; I shall ask him." I replied, folding my hands together and toying with the plain gold ring on the third finger of my left hand.

Monsieur Debienne evidently noticed, because he suddenly grinned at me.

"Who's the lucky man?" he asked kindly.

I looked down at the carpet, blushing furiously, although I was smiling.

"The composer." I said quietly.

"Ah, I see." he replied, still smiling. "Well, congratulations to both of you."

"Thank you, monsieur. Thank you very much."

"You're quite welcome. Now, you had best be off to rehearsal – they'll be missing their leading lady."

I nodded and continued down the hallway towards my dressing room, using the excuse of fetching my libretto to see Erik for a few moments… He was waiting for me inside the little room, just as I had suspected.

"Good afternoon, Christine." he said with a smile as I deposited my bag on a chair.

I walked up to him and slid my arm around his neck, then suddenly reached up and kissed him. He still managed to seem surprised somehow, but not for long…

"What has put you in such a good mood?" he asked when we finally broke apart.

"I'm allowed to kiss my fiancée, aren't I?" I joked.

Erik smiled gently at me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I sighed contentedly, leaning my head on his shoulder.

"Are you coming to the rehearsal this afternoon? Monsieur Debienne was wondering, and Reyer has some questions."

"Perhaps I will."

"Oh, Erik, just come. Nothing will happen to you – things have changed. The company really likes this opera… and I will be sure to disillusion any silly ballet girl that screams, although I'm sure they won't."

Erik chuckled, and I was sure that he could clearly imagine me 'disillusioning' anyone who dared insult him.

"All right, Christine, I will be there."

"Thank you, Erik." I said, grinning. "I must go – I'll be late…"

And it seemed that I was to be late, because Erik pulled me into another suffocating embrace, kissing me more fiercely than he ever had before. I was dizzy when he finally let me go.

"As much as I would rather stay here with you, I really do have to leave, Erik…" I said softly, breathing hard. "I'll see you at rehearsal, all right?"

"Yes, you will." he said, with a soft smile, his breathing just as irregular as mine. He kissed me one more time, then turned and vanished back through the mirror.

I grabbed my libretto from my dressing table and made my way towards the stage, humming Erik's new opera softly to myself. I had protested it when I had first heard his plans, but now that it was completed, I thought it was his best work yet. It was far more classical than _Don Juan_ had been – it would appeal to more people that way – but it was still unlike any other opera I had ever heard. Like _Don Juan_, it was Erik's version of a well-known story, and he had a way of making the music very personal, very human, very… _real_. It was beautiful.

We were blocking the final scene that afternoon. My character sang the last lines alone, and so I walked up to the center of the empty stage, almost unaware that the entire company was watching me eagerly. I smiled at Erik, who was sitting in the house a few rows behind Monsieur Debienne, waited for Reyer to give me the music cue, and began to sing:

"_Certain as the sun_

_Rising in the East_

_Tale as old as time_

_Song as old as rhyme_

_Beauty and the Beast_."

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A/N: For those few of you who actually don't know that song, it's the title from Disney's _Beauty and the Beast_, music by Alan Menken, lyrics by Howard Ashman. Talk about shameless borrowing...

And, well... that's it. Fin. Thanks to everyone who read this, and special thanks to everyone who's reviewed. Right now, this story has 108 reviews and 4090 hits! Thanks to HD and KA for their help along the way. This site is great - not only have I gotten advice as a writer, I've met a whole bunch of great people from all over that I hope I can count as friends.

Yes, I'm still going to write! I'm currently mulling over an Eowyn fic and a modern-day Phantom fic. And, I hope you'll all trek over to my other story that's up - "Love the Stars." (Especially you, Nedj, since you're the one who told me to write it!)

Thanks so much for reading, everyone! --Kyrie


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